


Breaking the Gilded Cage

by Strawberry_Requiem



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: DAnanowrimo, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Male Friendship, Miscarriage, Multi, NaNoWriMo, Possible sex scenes, Postpartum Depression, Purple Hawke, Reconciliation, Red-Purple Hawke, Violence, anders/fenris friendship, let my babies be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Requiem/pseuds/Strawberry_Requiem
Summary: A task from Divine Victoria results in a reunion among bitter enemies. However, a common goal may teach them to put aside their differences for the sake of the greater good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing this for NaNo 2016. Due to my work schedule and other commitments, I probably won't make the word count by the end of the month, but I'll try my best.
> 
> My posting schedule will be Mondays and Thursdays (CST). If I have to break schedule, I'll try to leave a notification. 
> 
> Will be posting this on Tumblr as well on @steampoweredstrawberry.
> 
> Dragon Age belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware

It was so surreal.

Not two years ago, Anders would have walked through the Lowtown marketplace—any marketplace, really—careful to call his staff a walking stick, even going so far as to fake a limp if a Templar was eyeing him suspiciously. Reagents for potions and magical enhancements were given mundane descriptions when purchasing them so that anyone eavesdropping did not assume either customer or merchant for being mages. At the slightest inclination that a child might be a mage, parents rushed them into their homes just to keep them safe.

But now, it was different.

He walked slowly through the stalls, staff strapped to his back like a badge of pride. Merchants shouted the names of their goods out, cutting through the general chatter of the mid-afternoon crowds. A pair of boys sprinted past him, engaged in a game of tag.

“Look what I can do!” Called the one in the lead, perhaps to dissuade his pursuer from making him ‘it’. Within seconds, he was weaving a small flame in his palm.

“No fair!” Bellowed the second boy upon catching up. “I want to be a mage, too!”

A woman rushed up soon after. Anders put her at a couple of years younger than himself. He was sure that she was about to pull the young mage boy into an alleyway, to conceal him from Templars. Justice surged in agreement. He could feel the spirit gaining power, but managed to stem him by sheer force of will. Fortunately, she scolded him for using his magic in an area where something might catch fire, opposed to the alternative.

Anders didn’t think, ever in his life, that he would get to witness such a thing. The boys continued running circles around the market stalls, the occasional merchant grasping for any goods they feared the children were about to knock over.

The mage boy wasn’t the only one, though. Anders could pick them up. Perhaps because he was one of them. A girl fresh into adolescence was leaning against a nearby wall. She continuously shocked herself accidentally whenever a particularly handsome young man walked past her.

He could have spent all day watching the mages get to live freely, except he had to get back home and make salves to use in the clinic the next day.

Anders felt fortunate.

The people of Kirkwall had forgiven his crimes against the Chantry. Or, they felt his usefulness was enough to overlook the Kirkwall Rebellion. Legally, he was pardoned. One of Varric’s first acts as Viscount was to absolve his guilt in the matter. If not because they were friends, because Varric valued Hawke’s friendship so highly. He had been forgiven by the Divine, as well. Dark times, they were called. Dark times that called for desperate matters. Any crimes committed during the War—which the Kirkwall rebellion was being considered part of—had been forgiven. Anders couldn't guarantee how sincere her words were; part of him was still sure she only made it to appease her lover, the Hero of Ferelden: his Commander.

He was a free man, in every sense of the word. And, he still had roughly twenty years’ time to dedicate to his love.

Thinking of her drew Anders’ attention to the nearby produce stall. Normally, he would have walked on by, but with his love on his mind, he was interested in the apples on display. Anders picked one that looked good, with a nice, vibrant color, and bought it. This would make her happy. At least, he hoped it would.

\--

He wasn’t home ten seconds when Anders could already hear Gamlen and Charade bickering about something in the parlor. Normally they were more civil, or at least had sense enough to keep it private. It was that Amell tenacity, Anders chalked it up to. They all had it, even Leandra when she was alive.

“Why do you care if she sleeps the day away?” Balked Charade towards her father. “Orana said she had a fit of melancholy in the market this morning and needed to rest.”

“She’s _sad_.” Groaned the man. He walked several paces from his daughter, still not noticing Anders lingering in the doorway. “When I was her age, we didn’t lock ourselves in our chambers when we were sad. We dealt with it and moved on with our lives.”

“When you were her age, you weren’t a veteran of the Blight, helped discover a lost Thiag, killed an Arishok, aided in a mage rebellion, killed the Knight-Commander, buried both parents and a younger brother, fought in the Mage war, helped the Inquisition defeat an ancient Tevinter magister, physically walked through the Fade, and lost a—“

It was then that they noticed Anders’ presence. Charade awkwardly shuffled and cleared her throat. Gamlen did not look as nervous, but his expression was painted in apologies. The mage was only happy that they did not continue along this line of conversation; it was becoming a little too personal and heavy. He wished to not have to deal with that.

“—Anyway, my point is, if Claudia wishes to confront her emotions in this manner, she has more than earned the right to do so.”

Gamlen turned to Anders. Relief was spelled out on his face, though he still appeared cross. “Good. You’re home. You can deal with my niece. She only listens to you, as it is.”

  
Anders set his satchel of herbs and reagents down on the sideboard, with his staff propped up against the wall. The apple was still in his possession. Some letters addressed to Claudia littered the surface, so Anders picked them up with the intention of delivering them to her personally.

He said not a word to them other than hurried greetings as he ascended the stairs and entered the chambers they shared.

Claudia was in bed, wrapped around a small, crudely-knit blanket in a position reminiscent of a cat. Her waves of burgundy hair curled around her face, making her look sweet and serene, despite the storm Charade and Gamlen assured him was raging beneath.

Anders climbed into the bed next to her.

The jostling of the mattress roused the woman. Her bleary eyes opened. For a moment, she was disoriented, trying to grasp hold of reality.

“Anders? Is that you?”

“Yes.” He stated simply.

“I figured you would be at the clinic all day.” The woman beside him let out a yawn.

“Not many patients today.” Admitted the man honestly. “I decided to close up early and buy some things for poultices.”

“Things have been…slow lately. Yes?”

“Since I reopened the clinic, it seems. Maybe I just feel like I was busier back then due to the sense of urgency. Or, maybe with mages being free, they are patching up injuries before the need to bring me into the matter.” He glanced at her. “This extra time just gives me pause to think of all the people in Thedas still suffering as the mages have. The slaves…elves—“

“—Go home, Justice.” Grumbled Claudia. “I’m trying to ask about my husband’s day.”

“If I am your husband, Justice would be, too.” Muttered Anders with a note of bitterness.

“How could I forget that I got two husbands for the price of one?” Her humor was dry; a show she was putting on to fake normal. “I’m joking, of course. About both.”

“I know.” He pushed her hair out of her face, giving him a view of her vivid blue eyes. “How are you feeling, today?”

It was a loaded question. Always was. For anyone else, it was just small talk. Something he did to fill silence. For Claudia, though, it was different. Anders wanted to hear everything, to know if there was something he could do to make it better. Or, if he was best letting her cope in solitude. Charade had been right; she had suffered enough to have earned an emotional outburst whenever she pleased.

“Physically? Fine. Emotionally? I had a meltdown earlier when I noticed a couple of gray hairs. But, that’s my normal, I suppose. I went over some reconstruction plans with Varric, which went fine. Mainly just a bit of drinking and slipping into the barracks to pester Aveline. I came home after that and then went to the market with Orana when...when—oh, Anders.”

Her eyes welled up at the memory of it, but she turned away, so he couldn't see. Claudia never liked for others to see her cry. Including him.

“I would rather not talk about it any further. Do I have to talk about it?”

“Not if you don’t want.” His conviction was only partial. But, the sadness in her voice was unmistakable. It had been nearly three years that she had refused to talk about it and bore the burden on her own. It should have been both of theirs to carry. And, he did shoulder some of it. On his own. In silence and in guilt. He carried it as much as she did. But, it impacted her far more. In some ways, she was a shadow of her former self. The spirited rogue with the quick daggers and the quicker tongue was still there, she had only become morose.

Even so, it had been some time since her mood had deteriorated so. There was a time when she would lie in bed, days on end, and do nothing but sleep. It was a battle to get her to eat, to change her clothes, and to wash up. It was a battle that Anders gladly fought because it pained him to see her like that. He doubted if she would regress so far, given the progress she had made. She seemed to be in better spirits than her uncle and cousin made it seem, to say the least.

“I have something for you.” Mentioned the mage, deciding to change the subject.

“It’s not that stack of mail you’re clutching, is it?”

“No.” The man reached into his coat in order to pull out the apple.

“Good. Because I am not in the mood to read mail.” She groused dramatically, head plopping against his shoulder in the process.

The apple was presented to her with no flourishes or theatrics, but her eyes lit up as though he had employed such tactics. This brought a flicker of a grin to his face. At least she liked the gift. At least she wasn’t wallowing in complete misery.

Claudia took the apple greedily and sunk her teeth in with little more than muddled gratitude. He hadn’t expected a grand display of thanks from her; they were beyond that point in their relationship.

“You really should go through your mail, Love.” Suggested Anders, waiting patiently for her to eat her way to a sweeter demeanor. “There might be something important here.”  
“Why don’t you read my mail and answer them for me?” The woman wore her best puppy dog eyes as a means to coax him.

Anders shook his head. “I will read your mail to you, but you are responsible for responding to it all.”

“Deal.” Agreed Claudia. She held her apple up to his mouth, offering him a bite.

The man obliged while rifling through the stack of mail in order to find a good place to start. A simple envelope without even a recipient scrawled across the front struck him. Anders broke the seal and began scanning it so he may summarize, except he only got several sentences in before he stopped; it was an advert for some sort of male enhancement tonic.

“What is it?” Questioned the woman with a mouthful of apple. “You look amused by something.”

“I am.” He chimed, passing it to her. “Apparently, someone in Kirkwall thinks you need a little assistance in bed.”

Claudia didn’t even bother reading it. “Not you, I trust?” She paused. “You would tell me if you were dissatisfied, right?”

“No, not me. I am satisfied; and yes, I would tell you if I was disappointed as far as that is concerned.” He didn’t take his eyes from the stack of mail he was looking through. “It’s another advertisement for that tonic that is supposed to help male performance.”

“Why do they keep sending me these?” She questioned, throwing it down onto the covers, frustrated. “I am Mistress Hawke. Mis—tress. You would think they would know, given everything I’ve done for and to the city.”

Anders snorted at her final comment. It rang with more truth than he wanted to admit; Claudia could claim a fair sum of Kirkwall’s collateral damage. All of it if she felt like shouldering his and their friends’ contributions.

“I thought you preferred…what was it? 'Lady Renegade Apostate'?”

She shrugged. “Considering I am not a mage, we are not officially married, and you are no longer a renegade apostate, I doubt if I could call myself that with any degree of honesty.”

“Honesty—or a lack of—hasn’t stopped you before.” Anders smirked playfully. He didn’t dwell, however. The man moved on to the next letter in his hand. It looked as though it had been opened before, but then re-sealed with Varric’s signet ring. The recipient’s name on the front was also to Viscount Tethras. Anders could only surmise that the contents were something Varric wished for Claudia to see, but did not desire discussing with her personally. He pulled at the wax and opened it.

“Well, then. That isn’t very nice.” Hummed Anders, glossing over the letter.

“What does it say?”

“It is a petition to Varric from _Prince_ Sebastian Vael, asking him to allow Starkhaven soldiers into Kirkwall to conduct an investigation in order to find me so that I may be publicly executed for my crimes against the Chantry.”

Claudia ripped the letter from Anders and read it herself. He could see the rage growing in her with every word she coursed over. The grip she had on the parchment tightened, her brows furrowed, and she was trembling like one of those small, yapping dogs that liked to nip at ankles and acted like they were in charge.

“Maker’s balls, Sebastian!” She spat, shoving the letter back at Anders. “You would have thought when I wrote him back on his last letter, _kindly go fuck yourself on your grandfather’s bow, you self-entitled ass-hat, PS: Elthina was corrupt and I have no sympathy for her_ , he would have received the message.”

She was fuming, but Anders chose to let it run its course. Listening to her rant about people she hated not only helped to level her mood out, but it was rather funny to listen to, as well.

“Did you really?”

“I may have threatened to cut off his plucking finger as well.” Responded Claudia coyly.

“Is this something we should be concerned with? I mean, he threatened war.”

“No.” The woman was starting to calm. “Aveline and her men will beat the shit out of his soldiers if they even get close to Kirkwall’s borders. He would be a fool to even attempt to oppose her. Varric probably thought it was funny and wanted to give us a laugh; no need to worry your pretty head.” She prodded the parchment she returned to him several times. “Burn this.”

Anders set down the rest of the letters, keeping only the one from Sebastian in his hands. He focused his energy into his hands, willing a slight flame to his fingertips. Not enough to cause any property damage (Maker permitting), but a spark enough to catch the parchment in brilliant orange embers. It never ceased to amaze Claudia, he knew. Even now, even midway through her thirties, she watched as the flames he worked lapped at his pale hands with a childlike wonderment. They caused him no pain, but did render the letter in his grip to nothing but ashes pooling in his palms. Once the letter was spent, he extinguished the flames and shook any residual magic—and the ashes—from his hands. The action wasn’t necessary, more a force of habit that he picked up as a boy.

Though his palms were a bit soiled with the ashes, Anders picked up one of the letters he had set down. It was sealed with the Chantry Sunburst, something that struck him as odd. Claudia had friends beyond the ones that he knew, the man rationalized. Though, it was peculiar that of all people the Chantry might need to contact, it was her. She was hardly an example of a pious, Andrastian woman.

Anders popped the seal by running his finger under it. He read it, face growing longer and paler as he continued.

It was a summons from the Divine, requesting Claudia’s presence in the Grand Cathedral to discuss pressing matters. He read it again for good measure, hoping that he misinterpreted the meaning. This was not the case. Everything written there was the same as it was the first, and the second, and the third time he read those words.

“You look like you see some Templars heading your way. What is it?”

“You need to read this, Claudia.” He handed it to her, eyes fixated on the door.

To say he was scared was an understatement. Anders was terrified. He owed a lot to the current Divine—to Leliana. It was due to her decree that he was a free man for the first real time in his life. But, he knew her reputation, if not from her lover, his former Commander, then from the whisperings in the streets. Of how her cathedral was stained in the blood of her enemies.

Was Claudia her enemy?

Anders couldn’t say for sure. The women had no doubt spent time together when they served the Inquisition. If only for Leliana to get a good idea of how what Claudia knew could help her cause. That didn’t mean that they were cordial, or even civil. It was a dark time for his partner, a time when she found more comfort in a bottle than she did anywhere else. She no longer relied on alcohol as heavily, which Anders was grateful for, but still, it did not help his reservations regarding the summons.

Either Claudia did not understand the full weight of the words, or she was a far more brave person than he was. She finished reading the document and handed it over to him coolly. Almost disinterested. The man couldn’t fathom how she did it.

“So, I’m going to Orlais, I suppose.”

“Just like that?” Inquired Anders, making no effort to hide the fear in his voice. “You’re off to Orlais without even considering that this may be a trap?”

“A trap?” She didn’t seem to be of the same opinion as him. “Why would the Divine set up a trap for me? I support her policies, voiced my approval in her ascension to the Sunburst Throne, helped the Inquisition. As far as it concerns me, Leliana—sorry, Divine Victoria—and I should be on good terms.”

“Then what reason would she call you to Orlais?” He just wanted to make sure she had a reason. Anders didn’t want Claudia to rush into things without considering consequences like she had the habit of doing in her youth. On more than one occasion, he had to pull her out of the maw of some ferocious beast or do a quick patch-up job in some back alley because her bravado was stronger than her common sense at times.

Her face lit up. More so than when he handed her the apple minutes ago. It was not nothing but a core sitting in her lap next to the discarded male enhancement advert. “Perhaps Leliana wants to canonize you!”

“Why wouldn’t she contact me about that, then?” He heaved out a ragged sigh. “And you still won’t let that die? I doubt if the Chantry would ever even consider making me a saint, after what I did.”

“I wonder if I could convince her to build a statue of you, here in the city.” Wondered Claudia, paying no mind to his words. “I want a _big_ one. Massive and daunting. Its shadow will swallow up the Gallows, like it’s saying ‘you shall never imprison another mage, again’. I think it’s a fantastic idea.” She tried her best impression of Justice's voice with her words, which just sounded silly.

“You aren’t even listening to me.”

“I heard you.” She admitted. “Something about ‘why would Leliana invite you to Orlais to canonize me’. Well, my darling, she would do so to surprise you.”

“Claudia.” Anders breathed out, exasperated.

“I suppose you’re right. Maybe I’m being canonized. The big statue thing still stands, just of me.”

“Will you just listen to me?” The mage smoothed a hand over the crown of his head, trying to level himself. Becoming upset with her would get him nowhere; he should have been happy that her melancholy had passed and she was optimistic about something. Anders couldn’t tell if it was his own frustration, or if it was Justice. Still, he couldn’t help it.

Regardless, she heeded his words and stopped excitedly going on about big statues.

“I apologize, Love.” The man caressed her face gently with his apology. To make it more genuine. “I just…I don’t trust the Chantry. I’m sure Divine Victoria does have the best interest for the mages at heart, but I do not for one moment believe that she has your best interest at heart. The Chantry saved her, if what I heard from her lover is correct. Don’t you think she would be upset that I destroyed one? That you defended my actions while screaming in Knight-Commander Meredith’s fa—“

“ ‘—Fuck the Chantry; we stand with the mages’. I remember, Anders.” She placed her hand over his. “No one will let me forget.”

“My point is, do you think Lel—Do you think Divine Victoria is the sort of woman to let an attack like that slide? She was civil when you were in Skyhold, but that was because you were a guest, called there to help them with an issue that only you had some of the answers to. I worry that this time, it will end with an arrow in your back, and I might not be able to save you.” All he could think of was rushing in too late, Claudia's bleeding corpse lying on the dais before the Sunburst Throne, looking more pincushion than woman. It was the sort of thing he had nightmares about.

“Anders.”

Claudia removed her hand from his and placed both on the side of his face. He liked the way her skin felt; a bit rough and callused from her daggers, but also incredibly tender and caring. She leaned in and pecked his lips chastely, which he returned thrice fold. Her own were still slightly sweet from her apple.

“I wouldn't go alone, my sweet. I want you at my side. I do not want another length of time spent with so much distance between us.” She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. “I...I only wish to hear her out, perhaps it is important information about the Hero's search for the cure for the Taint. Perhaps she really is considering canonizing you. Or me. Or both of us. Or anything else that doesn't involve her killing me.” She smiled, mostly for him. Anders was grateful for that. “No matter the reason, I will be cautious. I will not rush in head-first and hope for the best. Promise.”

“It is not you I worry about.” It was. A bit.

“Then I will just have to be quicker with my daggers than she can be with her arrows, won't I?”

He kissed her again. More passionate than before. Anders couldn't express how worried he felt. How much the aching in the pit of his stomach grew at the thought of allowing her to have an audience with The Divine. It was an odd sort of feeling. One that he rationalized she must have carried with her for most of their time knowing one another. Even Justice buzzed in agreement, noting that the Chantry may want retribution for the Kirkwall rebellion. Or, maybe it was himself. He could scarcely tell the difference, except when he was stricken with lurid thoughts for the woman before him.

“We will have to get our affairs in order, then.” Uttered Anders upon pulling away. “I doubt if it would be wise to leave for several weeks without doing so.”

No matter anything else, he trusted her. He was left with no other real option.


	2. Chapter 2

Claudia’s last two days had escalated to whirlwind proportions. Everything was packing, and planning, and mapping, and reassuring Anders that it was going to be _fine_. Because, it had to be fine. No two people could go through everything that they had collectively and still beget more suffering. The end of the war was supposed to be the beginning of a new life for them. A peaceful life where they didn't have to worry about Templars or assassins or anything else that might come to tear them apart. Two years later and they were still overdue for some seriously good fortune.

That was what she told herself when the intrusive thoughts came. It was all she could do to keep herself from doing something damaging to herself.

Anders was at her side, delicately placing glass vials filled with various poultices and mixtures into his knapsack. Each gave a melodious _clink_ as it found its home among the others. He paid little attention to her considering how many pairs of small clothes she needed to pack for the both of them. Except, when he would glance her way sadly, begging her to stay home. Where it was safe. Where the Captain of the Guard would see to that.

She was sick of reassuring him. Mainly because he hardly ever promised her his safety for the nine years they fought for mage rights together. Every day was filled with worry. Worry that she would walk into the clinic, their home— _anywhere_ —and find him cut down. Or, with his forehead tainted with the brand of the Sunburst. Claudia wanted that lie. She wanted him to stroke her hair back and tell her that everything was going to be alright, even if he felt death's icy embrace.

Why he desired the same when he wouldn’t give it baffled her.

“I was thinking we could take the same route we did when we attended that Orlesian salon some years ago.” Said the woman, breaking the silence that cloaked them. She only hoped he remembered. Claudia didn't relish the idea of retelling the tale of the time her dumb ass got locked in a cell and had to slaughter a bunch of Qunari and snobby Orlesians.

“The one that resulted in us having to cut our way out of the dungeons after I saved you and that Qunari elf?” The way he spoke, it was difficult to say whether he was humored or just tired.

“That one, yes.” She avoided correcting him on who actually did the saving; he was so proud of that day. It wasn’t often that he got to play the dashing hero who saves maidens from the clutches from wicked men. Still, she was pleased that there was to be no storytelling. That sort of conversation was better suited to Varric.

“You don’t worry about the monsters that litter the mountainsides of Orlais?” Anders stopped placing poultices into his bag momentarily to cast her a concerned glance.

“I thought about asking Isabela to get us across the Waking Sea and to Orlais’ shores, but she will not be restocking her stores in Kirkwall for at least three weeks, judging by currents and wind patterns.” Claudia had taken and interest in navigation as of recent, if only to know when she could expect the Pirate Queen back in Kirkwall so they could get drunk off cheap liquor and reminisce about the old times. “Considering we need to be in Orlais in less than that, I think we’re better off walking.”

Anders grunted. “I know you fancy the idea of having the Pirate Queen herself charter you across the sea, but there are plenty of other ships bound for Orlais that we could board. There is one leaving tomorrow, if I am not mistaken.”

Claudia knew that he was right. He usually acted as her voice of reason when she was too busy thinking of romanticism and adventure. It was why they worked so well together, why after eleven years, she was still happy to be at his side. Anders was right. There were others ships. There would always be other ships.

“You’re right.” She hummed, tossing a pair of heeled slippers towards her armoire. Those were not a necessity. “We’ll see about boarding a ship tomorrow.”

“You have everything settled, already?”

“I’m leaving Charade in charge of the estate. She has an allowance to cover hers and Gamlen’s living expenses. The rest of the money is locked away and I am bringing the key with me; Varric has the spare. Orana has been paid in advance for two months, just in case we get detained. If we are gone longer, I have given Varric permission to enter the vault in order to pay Orana and give more money to Charade for their expenses. And, in the event that this is all a trap and we end up dead, I have written a will and have given it to Varric as well for safe-keeping. If only I die, you and Bethany get everything. Fifty-fifty.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Anders dropped what he was doing in order to hold her. Gently. But, enough to make it clear that she was giving him reason to worry. He did not like talk of death, particularly hers. He had nearly lost her too many times, he would claim whenever she headed down that path.

Claudia returned his embrace. “You don’t want to be a rich widower?” She joked flatly. “You’re still handsome enough to catch the eye of some sexy young thing.”

“I mean it. Please. Don’t joke about your mortality.” His grip tightened around her as his voice quivered. “I lost Karl. I don’t want to lose you as well.”

The woman didn’t tell him that she had been serious about leaving everything to him and her sister. He didn’t need that sort of weight on his mind. What he needed was a confirmation, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would be okay. It was something she couldn’t give him. To compensate, she buried her face into his chest and ran her fingers down his spine in an effort to bring him comfort. If she couldn't promise him her safety, she could reaffirm that for the time being, she was safe and with him.

“I’m sorry, Darling.” The words came out muffled, but still understandable.

Anders pulled away upon receiving the apology. His face was stricken with emotional pain, but he would endure. Claudia knew him well enough to know that he was tougher than to let a joke diminish him so. Still, she meant it when she told him that he was attractive enough to draw the attention of younger parties. Sometimes, she felt he was more attractive than when they had first met. His hair had grown longer, and a bit of age looked good on him. Even the bits of gray cropping up around his temples made him more desirable. He was a handsome man; it wouldn't surprise her in the least if someone half his age was interested in him.

“We should let Varric know that we have decided to push up our departure date.” Suggested Anders.

* * *

 

“Tomorrow morning?”

Varric was sitting at his desk in Viscount’s Keep. When they walked in, he appeared to not be doing much of anything. Claudia knew better, of course. He was, perhaps, the busiest man in Kirkwall. And, judging by the stack of papers he seemed to be pretending weren’t there, he was shirking off quite a bit just to afford them an audience. It was like that even before he was named Viscount. But prior to that, his _office_ was a stuffy room in The Hanged Man that smelled of piss and stale mead.

“Yes.” Clarified Anders. He hardly seemed at home in the office, though he was there nearly as frequently as she was. Mostly to drag her home when she lost track of time. “There is a ship bound to Orlais leaving tomorrow, and we have every intention of being on it.”

“Shit.” Cursed the dwarf. He leaned back in his chair. Despite his stance, he did not look comfortable. “I thought I had another day or two left to finish the plans we were going over.”

“Plans?” Questioned Anders pointedly. “Is that what you’re calling the bottle of whiskey you keep in your desk?” He was making it abundantly obvious that he did not like Varric dragging Claudia back to the bottle. That was his wording, of course, not how she would have liked to describe it.

“Relax, Blondie.” Reassured Varric. His face was blank, though his eyes were sad. Hurt by the implications his friend was making. “I haven’t been getting Hawke belligerent. Just a drink every so often to help with the stress.”

Anders was afraid Varric was enabling her drinking, this Claudia knew. A relapse was not what they needed. He had been truthful, however, when he said it was an occasional drink to help with stress. Since she had given up the bottle the last time, Claudia had been _mostly_ sober. Except for the odd drink with an old friend. Varric always cut her off if he felt she was too deep in the cups. Luckily, it hadn’t gotten to that point since Skyhold.

The mage’s expression didn’t change, leading Claudia to believe she was going to hear all about it later. She did not look forward to it.

With that squared away, the Dwarf at the desk shifted positions. Claudia, too, changed with leg was baring the bulk of her weight. Anders was rigid at her side.

“Have you told Aveline you’re leaving for Orlais, yet?”

Claudia frowned. “No. I was hoping you would tell her.” She followed the plea with a pathetic grin, hoping it would grant her what she wanted.

Varric snorted wryly, unconvinced. “Funny, Hawke. Before you leave, stop by the Barracks and let her know. _I’ve_ had enough scary warrior women trying to maim me to last several lifetimes.”

“We’ll go see her now, then.” Suggested Claudia.

The pair got, maybe, five steps to the door when Varric cleared his throat in order to stop them. He must have forgotten to tell them something important. Claudia turned to face him, followed by Anders.

“Blond—Anders?” His face was muddled with concern. A look that seemed out of place on Varric's face. “Keep Claudia safe. We both know how she likes to find herself in shit much bigger than what she can handle.”

“I will.” Anders nodded once in confirmation and headed out the door.

Claudia stood in disbelief for a moment, shocked that she was so blatantly insulted by both her lover and her best friend. She shot Varric a dark look; he responded with a nonchalant shrug. He wasn’t afraid of her.

Anders was already halfway down the staircase leading from Varric’s office when she caught up. He turned his head to her, a flicker of a smirk on his lips when he caught sight of her scorned expression.

“You agree that I get myself into shit I can’t get out of?” Asked the woman, not bothering to hide her upset.

“Well, yes.” Hummed Anders. His focus shifted back to the stairs. “That is a proven fact, Love. Everyone in Thedas knows how the Champion of Kirkwall is a sort of magnet for danger.”

“You’re mean to me.” She grumbled, taking his side. Still, she knew they meant well. Neither wanted to see her come to any harm.

Anders laced an arm around her waist briefly. His form of an apology. Claudia accepted. Yet, her pout was still prominent upon her face.

In the Barracks, Claudia received greetings from just about every guard that walked by. They all knew that she and Aveline were good friends. Many of whom even served the guard before the rebellion. She wasn’t as frequent to their post as she was back then. Still, she was received like an old friend by most of them. Even the recruits who were more wet behind the ears knew to show a certain level of respect to Mistress Hawke. Especially if she would be received by both the Captain and the Viscount whenever she willed it.

Aveline was in her office, reading the reports from the previous night’s patrols, from the look of it. Her chin was rested in her palm as her eyes lulled over the words hastily scrawled on the parchment clutched in her other hand. She looked positively bored. But, then again, Aveline was never the sort of Captain who dictated from behind a desk.

Her eyes rolled up from her reports when she heard them enter. A welcome distraction, most likely. The parchment was abandoned on the pile of others she had yet to read.

“Hello, Hawke. Anders.” Aveline spoke with familiarity. Like they had just spoken an hour prior. She always did. Mostly because she had one of her guards keep an eye on them, to make sure Anders wasn’t planting any suspicious-looking parcels in locations where he may have staged protests against in the past and Claudia wasn’t planning on inviting herself into one of the other nobles’ estates in order to _liberate_ their pretty baubles for herself.

That was Claudia’s speculation.

“I have some good news and some bad news for you, Aveline.” Claudia propped herself against the out-most corner of the desk. “Good news is I’ll be out of your hair for a few weeks. The bad news is that Anders thinks I’m going to die.”

“I don’t have time for your games, Claudia.” Sighed Aveline. She raised her hands in order to massage her temples. “What are you talking about?”

“I have received an official summons from Divine Victoria herself so that we may discuss _pressing matters_ , whatever that means. Anders thinks it’s my death—a trap. I think…well, I don’t rightly know what I think. But, I’m going to try to get a big statue out of it.”

Aveline quirked an eyebrow, her gaze trickling over to Anders. “She is having a good day, then?”

“So far, yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Though, she’s being honest about the statue bit; I think the potential statue is the only reason she wants to go in the first place.”

“I’m right here, you know.” Claudia didn’t enjoy being spoken about as if she wasn’t present. “And I wasn’t lying. Not about the statue or the summons.”

Anders took a few steps closer to her, putting him within reach. “I have some things to attend to before we leave for Orlais in the morning. I’ll meet you at home.” Swiftly, he pecked her cheek and headed out, leaving the pair of women on their own.

Claudia watched as he left. It wasn’t until she was sure that he was out of the Keep did she turn to Aveline. Not because she was keeping things from him. It was because she needed to reclaim her train of thought.

“You know,” she began, playing with a stray lock of hair, “if Divine Victoria were here right now, we would have three badass red-haired, ass-kicking ladies together. That _must_ be someone’s fantasy.”

“Can I ask you a question, Hawke?” From the way Aveline spoke her request, Claudia could tell that she was attempting to change the subject. She often did when their topics took a left turn into weird.

“As long as it’s not to help you with a patrol or something. I have to be on a ship tomorrow, and I would rather it be in one piece.”

“It isn’t.”

Aveline pursed her lips. From her expression, it was an uncomfortable sort of question to ask. Claudia didn’t like that idea at all. Aveline usually was careful with her words, but never to a point where she obviously appeared to be carefully selecting them.

“Do you think this is such a wise idea? You’re aging. You’re _both_ aging. And, you’re out of practice. I am not speculating that this is a trap like you say Anders believes, but there are sure to be people who do not see you in a favorable light. Varric won’t be there to pay someone off to silence them, nor will I be there to carry you off if you become foolhardy and try to take them all on.”

“I’ll have Anders there to _zap_ them. Simple. Or, I can slit their throats.” She chose to ignore Aveline's claims that she was reckless with the life she had.

“I’m not sure if I should find your optimism refreshing or frightening.” The captain shut her eyes in a way that reminded Claudia of a strung-out mother dealing with an unruly child. “I know I can’t stop you, Hawke. All I ask is that you be careful. There are plenty of people who will miss you if you were gone; one of them fashioned a powerful explosive and used it in the name of justice.”

“Anders was completely right, though!” Bellowed Claudia in her lover’s defense. Aveline’s words struck an obvious nerve; the topic of Anders' actions during the rebellion was always a sensitive one. “Something _had_ to be done. He tried to get through to them non-violently, but—“

“—That is far from the point, Claudia. The point is, I don’t want to think of what he would do if someone were to hurt you. I don’t want to think of what most of the others would do if someone hurt you, but especially Anders.”

“Because he loses the most?”

“Well, there’s that. There’s also the fact that on his own, he is capable of far more destruction than any of your other friends on their own.”

“Merrill is a mage too, Aveline.” Said the rogue, unamused.

“Merrill didn’t blow up a Chantry in protest.”

“Can we stop using the Rebellion as a judge of Anders’ character?” Groaned Claudia. It had very little to do with the fact that she was romantically involved with him; it was the notion that people called him a monster and a criminal when he was brave enough to take a stand against unforgivable crimes. “I feel personally attacked every time you do. He was _right_ , okay? People died in the explosion, but how many innocent mages have the Templars killed? How many could have been saved if the Chantry actually did something about the abuse they knew was happening? If things had worked out different, that could have been Bethany. Bethany could have gone to the Circle and have been beaten and ra—“

“—I get it, Hawke.” Interrupted Aveline, visibly frustrated. Her arms folded over her breastplate, making her look like the intimidating warrior she was. Such was a topic Claudia wasn't shy about discussing. Still, it must have got old, listening to her defend the man. It certainly got old defending his actions. Especially to their friends. “Also, I don’t disagree that something had to be done, I just disagree with his methods.”

“We’re all killers, Aveline.” Explained Claudia coldly. “Very few of us can claim as honorable a reason, though.”

The guardswoman rolled her eyes. Claudia took that as her sign to stop on the line of conversation she was headed down. Aveline was the single scariest thing in all of Thedas when she was angry.

“Anyway, as I was telling you before I got sidetracked, Anders and I are going to Orlais for about a month to meet with the Divine. Varric said I should let you know, so that you don’t go looking for me and start harassing him about my whereabouts. And, keep an eye on Gamlen and Charade for me, will you?”

“I already do.” Admitted Aveline. “Thank you for informing me of your absence.”

Claudia fidgeted on the edge of the desk. It was an uncomfortable seat, to say the least. But, she was proud and didn’t wish to abandon it in favor of a chair after she had already marked it as her spot. “Thank you, Aveline. For everything. I don’t want to seem ungrateful after you’ve done so much for me. And, I promise to be careful.”

“That is all I ask, Hawke.” The guardswoman relaxed considerably. She didn't say it, but Claudia could tell that the idea of her leaving, especially with just Anders as company. “Now, I am a busy woman, as I am sure you are as well. So I will ask you to leave.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My posting schedule will remain the same this week. I just finished two chapters this weekend and elected not to save them for later.

The journey to Orlais was long and uncomfortable. Reminiscent of when she first came to Kirkwall, Claudia rationalized. Granted, they were not packed in the hold with scarcely room to breathe, let alone space to stretch her legs. They slept with the crew; it was a cargo ship that didn’t have space designated for travelers. By far, that was her biggest complaint. Sailors spent so much time away from shore. And, by association, women. No one dared attempt to touch her, luckily. Probably because she made it abundantly clear that she would be breaking fingers if anyone tried.

Anders, naturally, was a jealous, on top of his default of being worried. He mostly made passive-aggressive remarks whenever he noticed someone looking on her with wanton desire. Ever since she committed herself to him, he was like that. Jealous of any man or woman who even stopped to give her a passing glance. Claudia reassured him the best she could. On both fronts. Still, he was wound up and on edge.

This only increased tenfold when they finally made it to Orlais. Every shadow housed an assassin, the mage was sure. Claudia would have pegged him as a rogue, if not for his magical capabilities, the way he turned an eye to every dark corner and proceeded with an expert display of caution. Then again, being an apostate for as long as he had been required a certain amount of subterfuge. His paranoia only grew to new heights the day they were slated to meet with the Divine. If he had his way, Claudia would have stayed in his line of sight every moment of every day. He slept sparingly since leaving Kirkwall, so turning an eye to her at all times was easy.

But, no villains sprang forth to cut her down. No assassins baring the Chantry Sunburst struck her down. She reminded him of that the night before they found their destination. Before he made love to her with an unprecedented amount of passion and care. He didn’t sleep that night. Claudia knew that. She had drifted off soon after they finished, but not him. Never him.

His face was marred with the purple bags as proof.

They stood before the Grand Cathedral. Anders silently reached out for her hand. Claudia knew that he needed that connection to remind himself that she was still there. She squeezed his reassuringly. _It will all be okay_. It _had_ to be okay. Because two people didn’t deserve to suffer as much as they had done collectively.

Claudia wasn’t positive if she felt that way from her own conviction, or only to give him a false sense of hope.

She looked to the man at her side. He returned the glance, face twisted almost beyond recognition from his fear. To calm him, the woman ran the back of her hand down his cheek. Anders laced his fingers in hers while drawing a step closer. They shared a desperate kiss. One that Claudia was confident the mage thought would be their last.

“Whatever you do, stay where I can see you.” The man demanded. “And please, do not do or say anything that would upset her.

She smiled weakly just prior to placing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You worry so much, my sweetheart.” Purred Claudia, wearing false bravery solely for his benefit. “It will be just fine. She is probably just bored and wishes for pleasant conversation.”

“She can get that from her lover.” Anders' voice quivered as he glossed over his words. “But, I hope you’re right. Please be right.”

Claudia didn’t know how to console him. Not when worry alone had caused him to age ten years. She wanted to kiss away his fears, to lull him into complacency. But, she was no miracle worker. She was still alive, though. That in itself was something to celebrate. “She hasn’t killed me, yet. It will be just fine.” She reiterated.

Without another word exchanged, they pressed against the doors leading into the Cathedral, which were--surprisingly—open. Then again, the Divine had been expecting them.

Claudia had never seen a building so grand or so opulent. It was a gem, the sort that would adorn the neck of a beautiful woman. Or perhaps, it _was_ the beautiful woman, cloaked in fine velvet and striking stained glass. Everything in Orlais was rich with pomp and decadence. The chantry was no exception.

It was silent, was Claudia's second observation. Not a single soul walked through the hallowed halls. Not a sleepy brother or devout sister. Not even a church mouse in search of crumbs. Only the sounds of their boots tapping against polished marble.

She kept an eye turned to the shadows, just in case. Anders was doing the same, though it was far more obvious from him; he hadn’t the training necessary to be discreet about it. But, as her earlier sentiment was, they were alone.

That was, except a beautiful woman befitting the Cathedral's beauty sitting atop the Sunbrust throne.

Claudia recognized her; she went by many names. Hero of the Blight. The Nightingale. Spymistress to the Inquisition. _Divine Victoria_. She looked far too young to hold such a position. At least, from the rogue's perspective. It was one she imagined to be held by aged crones, not women still lovely and young enough to be seen whispering seductions and secrets behind decorative fans.

“Lovely place you have, Divine.” Boomed Claudia. She curtsied theatrically. Sarcastically. “It certainly is an improvement to the attic you inhabited in Skyhold.” She received a dark look from the tense Anders.

“I was rather fond of that _attic_ , as you called it.” Claudia noticed no bow on the Divine's person nor nearby. However, it was possible that a concealed dagger resided in her robes. She remained ready, just to be sure.

“You brought Anders.” Observed the woman upon the throne. “Good.”

The mage's eyes narrowed. He was seconds away from hurling a fireball at the Divine and making a mad dash for the door. “Why would that be a good thing? Because you plan on killing—“

“—If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t need to summon you to Orlais.” She laughed softly at the notion. “I am good friends with the leader of the Antivan Crows. I am sure you knew that. Summoning you here would just be…sloppy. And, I would rather not have The Champion of Kirkwall's blood on my hands.”

“It's just ‘Claudia’ these days.” She explained after shooting Anders a confident smirk. “I've little need for a title that a crazed tyrant gave me.” She rolled her shoulder joints in an effort to stave off achiness. “And what of you? Shall I call you _Divine Victoria_? Perhaps Spymistress?”

“Leliana is fine.” A pause. “This meeting is officially off the record. Just between us. I…require something of you. Both of you.”

Anders was unconvinced. His stance was unwavering, fingers twitching in anticipation of weaving a spell. Claudia touched a hand to his arm in order to calm him. He shrugged her off. “I still don’t trust you. I committed crimes against the Chantry and you’re asking _us_ for a favor? Without a stipulation that ends in us dying?”

“I already told you, if I wanted you dead, you would have been dead by now. And, as far as the rebellion is concerned, it was tragic, though necessary. War was coming. Regardless of your actions. The Chantry, as long as I sit at its head, gives its support to the mages; having two of the war's heroes assassinated will not help my cause.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I thought you would say that.” Leliana gestured towards someone who was just out of eyesight from where they were standing. “I have something for you—call it _goodwill_ —to prove to you that I mean no harm to either of you.”

Claudia nudged Anders in the ribcage with her elbow as she mouthed ‘ _a gift_ ’ at him. He was far less amused than she. His face was grim, set in stone as if the reaper had come to claim them both. Though, she had been fairly certain that Justice had taken away any shred of optimism the man possessed.

A woman stepped forth from out of Claudia's line of sight. Dalish, judging by her blood writing. And about the same age as them. Pretty, she was, with her raven hair pulled up in a messy ponytail and her violet eyes playing in stark contrast to the navy and the silver of her Gray Warden uniform. She had a cat cradled in her arms. An orange tabby that had Claudia's lover transfixed. His eyes had grown to the size of saucers.

“Long time, no see, Sparkle Fingers.”

Anders bristled at the annunciation of that phrase. _Sparkle Fingers_. Still, he looked equal parts terrified and shocked. Claudia didn’t know if she was about to see his pragmatic side, or if the spirit was about go take over and slaughter all present.

“Come to drag me back to the wardens?” It was more of a hiss than actual speech.

“Came to return your cat.” Snorted the Dalish woman, amused. “I’m…sorry about what they put you through, Anders. If I had been there, I wouldn’t have tolerated those Templars joining the Order. I wouldn’t have tolerated—“

“—I don’t blame you, Lyna.” A sigh. “You were always good to me.”

Anders was cautious in his approaching the woman--Lyna—in order to retrieve his cat. Claudia figured it to be the Ser Pounce-A-Lot she had heard so much about. Anders' gentle cooing of his name affirmed this. The beast began squirming, agitated, in her grasp, growing excited as its previous master drew near. Claudia wagered that even after ten years, it remembered Anders and was equally as thrilled to see him. The mage's caution was purely because he kept little faith in the Divine. Who, had not moved a hair as she observed the exchange.

Claudia was sufficiently confused. Something about this woman resulted in Anders' entire demeanor changing. His shoulders were no longer tense. He was _approaching_ the dais without second thought. Granted, she was relieved to see the fine worry lines in his forehead smooth over, but it was just so out of character for his behavior as of recent. 

But, he had the cat and was taking her side again. The animal was purring so loudly and so gleefully that the rogue could hear it, even before he was next to her once more.

“Pounce missed his papa.” Explained the elf. “And now, it seems, he has a pretty mama to give him love as well.”

“Excuse my ignorance, but who are you?” She had a guess. But, she also didn't wish to sound a fool. The compliment was ignored entirely.

“My apologies.” The elf bowed gracefully. It looked out of suit, given the fact that she was outfitted in armor and looked more battle-ready than anything else. “I am Lyna Mahariel; Commander of the Gray for Ferelden's order.” A formal greeting. “But, you probably know me as the Hero of Ferelden, or, if you've heard any of Anders' stories, 'please, for the love of _Andraste_ , don't touch that'.”

Claudia afforded herself an amused chuckle. “We seem to share a title.”

“I already know who you are. And not just because I was listening in on your conversation with my wife.” She turned to Leliana with a loving look in her eyes. “But, I've wasted enough time. There are matters to discuss.”

Leliana adjusted her Chantry robes and smoothed out the wrinkles. Lyna took a spot next to the Sunburst throne, looking more the part of staunch protector rather than loving spouse. It resembled something out of a painting: the Divine and her right hand. Claudia was nearly positive that the Hero of Ferelden wasn't actually the Divine's right hand, but the image was a suitable comparison.

“There has been some...resistance in the North.” Leliana's voice was hollow. “Venatori agents, slavers... people who would do harm to the reputations of the mages recently freed. People who would do harm to _my_ reputation.” Her fingers formed a steeple in front of her mouth. She looked dark. Menacing. “You can imagine what sort of chaos it would bring if people started associating other free mages with the likes of these undesirables. There would be another war. I might be removed from my seat on the Sunburst Throne. Mages might be forced back into Circles.”

Anders' jaw set in a harsh line as she uttered the word  _circle_ . 

“We cannot have that. What I propose is sending you, Hawke, with a small group of your choosing, to the Imperium to snuff out the rabble. From our time serving the Inquisition together, I could tell that you are the sort of woman who gets results, which is why I chose you specifically.”

“I take it this would be strictly off the record.” Claudia's hand found her hip. “That is why you chose me above, say, one of the assassins you have in your employ, or one of your companions during the Blight.”

“Exactly. Normally, I would use my assassins, but I fear that they will not go as unnoticed as the Champion of Kirkwall and her mage lover. Who very well could be int the Imperium doing some magical research into a topic that is difficult to do so in the southern parts of Thedas.”

Claudia looked to Anders. He was paying attention, but only when Ser Pounce wasn't demanding his full, undivided attention. The cat was making up for lost time. Not a look her way was permitted as the animal shoved its face into his master's palm.

“Will you be paying me?” The prospect of getting paid was ultimately the deal-breaker. She had to say, the idea did have its charm. The peace, it was nice, but it also lacked excitement. Claudia needed some time away from Kirkwall, away from her estate. Away from terrible memories that haunted her like ghosts of the dead. Whether Anders would agree was something she couldn't predict. However, he was growing tired of the mundane turn their lives had taken. It was welcome. At first. But, as the days went on, she could see the need for him to do something. For him to claim justice on behalf of those who had no voice to cry out. Perhaps he needed this as much as she lusted for coin.

“A stipend will be allotted, sent via one of my agents every three months. They will also be bringing you new orders, new targets that may require eliminating, or anything else I may wish to contact you about. Beyond that, you are free to proceed as you wish. Though, a certain amount of discretion is required.”

“Destroy any documents I receive from you. We never discussed anything today. I never met you. I never heard of you. Got it.” Claudia nodded resolutely following her statement. She knew how these things worked; the Divine couldn't be rumored to be sending a violent thug to wipe out anyone who may oppose her.

Leliana responded by mimicking Claudia's nod. “Wonderful. You will need time to assemble anyone you wish to bring with you, and perhaps hire a guide to help you navigate the Imperium, permitting you have never been.”

“I haven't.” A curt response. She instantly thought of Fenris. He was Tevinter, he knew the Imperium, knew the language. Knew how Claudia would have to dress and behave to go unnoticed among its citizens. Anders wouldn't like that one bit, but she acknowledged that Fenris was their best bet. “I do know someone who might be able to help, though.”

 

* * *

 

“I am not going if you intend on bringing _him_ with.”

Anders was furious. He was pacing through the small room they had rented in a local tavern. He had been for no less than half an hour. Claudia was sitting on the bed, barely big enough for the both of them, stroking Pounce as he slept. The cat didn't stir, but his purring was warm and comforting, despite the rage she had been receiving from her lover.

In a way, she knew she deserved at least some of it.

It had been her who suggested Fenris. Though, Fenris really was the best candidate to help them on this task. And, despite his and Anders' hatred of one another, he had always been kind to her. Plus, he was a powerful warrior, which would be beneficial if they were going to be taking on droves of hostile forces. Claudia knew her daggers were worth shit against larger, heavily armored foes.

Claudia also knew that it was immature of both of them to continue this feud at their age.

“You're being childish.” Moaned the woman.

“I'm being—Claudia! I hadn't done one thing to him when _he_ started spitting out ridiculous accusations about me and about every mage in Thedas!”

She shook her head. “And that was wrong of him to make assumptions and treat you the way he had. However, it doesn't excuse your treatment of him, either.” Maker, she hated being the reasonable adult. It made her understand why Aveline always looked so cross whenever she got into trouble.

“So, that's it?” The man stopped his pacing. His brown eyes were cold and narrow, not at all projecting the warmth and love they usually carried when he looked on her. And to think, earlier he was up in knots about the prospect of losing her.“You're choosing him over me? The nine years I've been beside you means nothing all of the sudden?”

“Anders, I'm not...come here.”

Claudia rose off the bed. Pounce made a disgruntled noise about losing her hand, but drifted back off to sleep only moments later. It only took several short steps for her to be in front of him. She gingerly scooped up his hands and stroked the knuckles affectionately. He still looked hurt and enraged, but did not brush her off.

“I love you, Anders. I still want to spend the rest of my life with you. Maker knows no one else would have me.” She snorted, amused at her own joke. “Leliana is allowing us time to think it over. And, I think this is a good opportunity. If we do this, we will be making an ally of the Divine. With the sort of situations I seem to find myself caught in, I could use that sort of ally,”

“I refuse to go without you. Please, just give it some consideration.”

Swiftly, Anders pulled his hands from her grasp. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Anders was still upset, but he didn't wish to argue on it further. It was written all over his face and in his body language. His back was turned to her as he undressed for bed. Not once did he turn to check if she needed help with the buckles of her armor or the laces of her leggings. They had fought before, and every time, Claudia felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

Anders was already in bed by the time Claudia had managed to get out of her armor and into something more suitable for sleeping. He was on his side, facing the wall, with the cat curled up near his stomach. She climbed into the bed next to him. But, she felt alone.

 


	4. Chapter 4

They hadn't spoken since their argument the night before.

Or rather, Anders hadn't responded to Claudia.

He was still _livid_ about her suggestion; justifiably so, he felt. Claudia knew of the bad blood between him and Fenris. Claudia _knew_ how Fenris suggested that Anders was a snake that would turn on his friends at the earliest convenience. She had been correct in saying that it wasn't a one-sided situation; Anders had called him a wild dog—an animal—on several occasions. But, he had been provoked to that point! Did she not understand that? Did she think it was he who initially instigated? How could she even voice such a consideration when with the same mouth, she told him she loved him above all else?

Maybe he was being childish.

But, he had every right to be.

They left the inn just before the sun crested above the horizon. The sky was just starting to glow with brilliant hues of golds and pinks. Ser Pounce-A-Lot rustled in his knapsack, trying to find the divide between the flap that kept it closed so that he may poke his head out and observe the world around him. Though maybe he wanted to watch Claudia. The cat was extremely curious about the rogue and had almost instantly taken a liking to her. During the night, he abandoned Anders' side to curl up on her hip. He stayed there until they woke, and even then put up some resistance when she tried to get up.

Under any other circumstances, he would have been thrilled that his cat was developing a fondness for his lover.

Claudia had been making random observations on their way to the docks. To try to goad conversation out of him. Anders knew that one of two things would happen if he responded: either he would say something he didn't mean and hurt her feelings. Or, she would steer their conversation in a direction that would result in him forgiving her. He wanted to stay mad. He wanted to seethe with it and let it fester. For a while, at least. Because he still had every right to be angry. But, he also didn't want to say something hateful and hurtful to her in a moment of rage and drive them further apart. No matter how mad he was, he still cared for her.

“Do you think we will have pleasant sailing weather on the voyage home?”

Anders frowned. She was trying so hard to get a response. He almost wanted to applaud her efforts. Then again, Claudia was the sort of person who never backed down from a challenge. Apparently ending his silence was her newest conquest.

“You can't keep ignoring me, Anders.” Claudia bemoaned of him after an extended silence. “This isn't how people who care for one another handle their issues.”

She was breaking his resolve.

Anders stopped walking; Claudia nearly ran into him as a result. He turned on the balls of his feet, a dark look crossing his entire face as he looked on her. The man was doing everything to keep the venomous words at bay. But, they were rising forth, making him feel like a pot about to bubble over. Perhaps this was Justice's doing. Or, perhaps it was him. Either way, it didn't matter.

“Why can't I?” He spat cruelly. Judging by the expression on her face, it wasn't the response Claudia had come to expect. “What you suggested it was...it was...if you _loved_ me, you would know that even humoring the thought of bringing Fenris along was out of the question.”

“You doubt my love of you?” She looked hurt. But more than that, angry. “After eleven years of friendship, nine years of faithfulness despite everything we had gone through, fighting mage oppression at your side, joining the Inquisition despite better judgment because _you_ were hearing the Calling and _I_ was going to do everything in my power to stop it? Do you know how that hurts? To hear you doubt my conviction after all I had suffered and sacrificed and lost?” The sorrow in her voice was unmistakable. As was the fire burning in her eyes.

Anders did feel a touch guilty, for doubting her resolve. If he had only one friend through the last twelve years, it had been her. Always standing beside him. Always true and unwavering in the face of their foes. Even before they were lovers, she had been a true, caring companion who took up arms for his plight.

Even still, the anger inside was unrelenting.

He resumed ignoring her and continued on to the docks. If he bit his tongue, he wouldn't say something that may injure the fragile balance they currently possessed even further.

So, he kept walking.

Claudia hurried to catch up. Her legs were shorter, which required her to take on a jog to do so. By the way she was stomping her feet, Anders could tell that she was not about to let the argument die.

“So, you're back to ignoring me, is it?” Bitterness dripped off her every word. “Nothing will get solved if you keep this up. You need to _talk_ to me. Like a fucking adult instead of running away and pouting!”

They were at the docks. The briny sea air and the cry of the gulls hit Anders like a brick. That wasn't what caught his attention, though. Nor was it Claudia's frequent reminders that he was being immature.

Shortly ahead of him was a boy. Young. Maybe eighteen. Maybe younger. He was bruised around the face and arms. And surrounded by several larger, older boys. They were speaking in Orlesian, a language Anders wasn't completely familiar with. But, he got the gist of what was being said. The first boy was a mage. His fingers sparked with magic, but he was either out of practice or not powerful enough to completely control it. The other boys were bullying him, taunting him. Either because he was unskilled with his magic. Or, what Anders suspected, because he _had_ magic.

Justice roused from his dormancy, trying to suppress Anders' consciousness. He could feel the pull of the Fade dragging him down, allowing the spirit control. It intermingled with his anger from his previous conversation with Claudia, lending power to Justice, making it easier to overtake the man and gain control of the body. The mage gritted his teeth, reminding himself that the war was over. That he didn't need to champion for every mage, no matter how untrue he felt it was.

But, Justice was far too strong.

As the Spirit won control, Anders felt himself slipping into a prison of his own consciousness. He _saw_ as Justice took control. The veins of his body rose to the surface and glowed violently and electric with magic from the Fade. But, he could not stop it. Justice willed his body forward, towards the boys bullying the smaller mage boy. He grappled for the staff strapped to his back, which Anders fought with every ounce of strength he had. No matter how he tried, he was never powerful enough.

Claudia howled from behind him somewhere. Her words were muddled. A plea for him—then Justice—to cease the oncoming attack. He wanted to obey, but couldn't.

The boys turned on him. On Justice. All except the mage, who sought refuge behind some crates. Justice wielded the staff like a blunt weapon. He struck menacingly at the boys. It should have been an easy fight for them, but the spirit was determined.

_You shall not harm any mage._

Justice's demands rang clear as a bell with his otherworldly tone. He continued antagonizing them. First as punishment. As the attack went on, though, it was clear that the spirit intended on leaving none alive. The boys were bleeding, begging for forgiveness in their mother tongue. Justice had not been sated, however. He wished to stain the bricks with their blood as a lesson to anyone who would do harm to a mage.

Anders screamed and fought against the spirit. He tried to will his hand clutching the staff down. He tried to demand that his legs take him in the opposite direction. Nothing was working. No matter how he fought, he was losing.

“Anders! Stop this!”

Claudia was attempting to restrain him. She had intercepted him and was trying to limit the movements of his arms. Justice continued to push her off. The woman was relentless, no matter how the spirit knocked her to the ground.

“The boys have learned their lesson! Let them go!”

Justice tapped into Anders' mana stores, causing his hands to erupt with flames. He grabbed Claudia roughly by the forearm where her gloves and leather armor did not protect. She bellowed out in pain as the fire burned her. Then, he threw her into some barrels. Claudia looked like a rag doll as she slammed into the barrels. They knocked off-balance and went rolling down the street. Bright red welts had formed on her arm from the fire; the area was starting to reek with the smell of her burnt flesh.

This gave Anders just enough power to overtake Justice. Because no matter how angry he was at Claudia, he didn't want to see her like that. Especially not when it had been technically him who had done this to her.

A loud crackling noise sounded off as Anders claimed control once more. He fell to the ground, exhausted and panting. But, no longer attacking those boys. And more importantly, no longer attacking Claudia. His victims ran off in the direction of the market square while the mage boy remained hidden. Claudia was still lying on the ground not far from him, softly whimpering from the burns he gave her. Pounce leaped out of his knapsack and found her side. He bunted his head against her leg, then her arm less damaged. Like he was apologizing for his master's actions.

Anders lumbered to his feet, head still pounding from the possession. He willed forth some mana to stave off the headache. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but when he did, the mage rushed to Claudia's side.

“Shit.” His voiced quaked with guilt. “Claudia, I—“

“—Anders, just fix my arm, please.” She held the injured limb out to him pathetically.

From this close, he could see the damage he had done. The skin was burned away completely where Justice had grabbed her. It was black and red and still radiated some heat. Painful-looking blisters had already begun forming. And the blood. Dear Maker, the blood. Anders no longer was angry at her. Just guilty.

His hands struck green with healing magic. He was careful to avoid touching the appendage, at least until the magic had helped some of the skin grow back and diminished the blisters. Claudia watched the whole time, not squeamish at all as her wounds worked in reverse. The blisters shrank and disappeared, skin wove itself anew. The burnt bits turned back to their normal color.

She was healthy once more. But, it didn't change the fact that he had attacked her in the first place. Anders' face went long with disgrace. Forgiveness was not something he believed he deserved.

“Claudia...” Anders began, “I am...I...I didn't wish to hurt you.”

The woman pulled herself from a lying position into a sitting one. She grimaced as she did so, probably because the fall had also injured her back. Later, Anders would have to look at it.

“Fuck you, Justice.” Despite her words, there was a note of humor in her tone.

It wasn't the first time Justice had turned on her. But, it was the one where he had done the most damage. Normally, the spirit shoved her away or knocked her from her footing if he was going to lash out against her. Normally it didn't even get to that point. Today was different. And, it filled Anders with an incredible amount of dread.

He had warned her, many years ago, that he would only hurt her. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he meant physically or emotionally. It was something he reminded her of on occasion, usually to hear her purr to him that she meant it when she said she wanted to spend her life with him. Something that often led to them being entangled in the throes of passion. He thought, after the war had ended, that they were safe. Maybe he was a fool for being optimistic, or maybe he had been deluding himself into believing that they could have something normal while he was still possessed. No matter what he had believed, this was the most vicious attack on Claudia yet. Anders feared that she might not survive another one if Justice struck again.

It made Anders think that perhaps going to the Imperium wasn't such a terrible idea. Because in the Imperium, magical research was far more advanced than any of the southern countries. And, just maybe, some Tevinter mage knew the secrets to either binding spirits so that they could not act out as Justice had. Or, they could rid people of the spirits all together.

The spirit hummed in disapproval.

Perhaps...perhaps they needed to go on this task for the Divine. Which meant they would need a guide, as much as Anders hated the idea.

“Claudia,” He said, scooping back her red curls so that he may get a better look at her face, “I...I think we should go to the Imperium.”

“Just like that?” Claudia shifted to get a better look at him. A look of disbelief had settled in on her face. Probably because he had been vehemently arguing with her about not going to the Imperium not long ago. “I still believe Fenris will be our best bet at finding someone to help us navigate the country.”

“I know.” The words slithered through his teeth. Anders looked away. He smoothed back some of the hairs that had come loose while Justice had been attacking the boys and Claudia. “After what just happened, I think I need to do some research into reversing spirit possession, or at least spirit bindings so that they cannot claim control of their hosts. For real, this time.”

“You mean it?” She didn't believe him. “You're not lying to me like the last time you said this, are you?”

“No.” Anders was resolute. “I could have killed you. If I had, it would have surely killed me as well.”

“Anders.”

“I will go. Even if you elect to bring Fenris as a guide.”

 

 


	5. NSFW*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING
> 
> This chapter contains a sex scene. It is completely consensual, and both parties are adults. No actual story progression happens in this chapter, so feel free to skip it if you wish. 
> 
> That said, I have not completely edited this as the election results took away much of my resolve and I nearly didn't finish this on schedule. I'll try my hardest to get back on track and get this edited this coming weekend.
> 
> Thank you for understanding.

Six days.

Six days did their ship be flung into the chaos that was a tempestuous squall. Six days did the ship gnash and moan as the waves hit its bow. The captain had assured Claudia and Anders—in broken King's Tongue—that they would be safe. His crew shone under these circumstances. Or, something like that. Claudia wasn't the best at picking apart his hodgepodge way of speaking.

Six days.

Her back started aching by the fourth. She and Anders had been instructed to stay below deck until the storm let up. They didn't want a couple of casualties that could have been avoided. Claudia appreciated that. But she didn't appreciate the lack of fresh air, the sleepless nights, and the aching in her body because she needed to get out, to feel the sunlight touch her skin.

She was restless.

Anders was practically wearing a hole into the planked flooring of the ship. Pacing was how he kept busy. With no manifesto to pen and without proper tools to make various tinctures, he was left with little else to do. Conversation was tiresome, especially when they were still trying to rediscover their balance with one another. Pounce was trailing after him, delicate little paws making soft _pitter-patters_ in unison with his master's heavier footfalls. 

Claudia watched them, at first because she was bored and had since grown bored of reminding Anders how bored she was. But, then there was something else. She studied him, the way his jaw set as if he was thinking of something deep and perplexing. How the muscles of his arms could be seen flexing, even through his coat sleeves, when he would rake a hand through his hair. He was just as pent-up as she.

They needed to talk. The day when Justice had taken control and attacked her still weighed heavy on their relationship. The animosity and anger had since passed, but they had yet to find their normal. She wanted that back. No doubt he wanted it back as well.

“Andraste's tits, Anders, you're making me nervous.” Announced the woman. “Come sit down for a while.”

The mage obliged, though not without a bit of consideration. Pounce was right behind him, trotting up like an ever-vigilant shadow. Nothing but the sound of the crew battling the storm above fell between them for a time. It was strange. Normally, they could talk of everything. Nothing. Or just bask in each other's company. At that moment, she felt like they were awkward acquaintances.

“I...I'm sorry about what Justice did to you the other day.” Anders conceded as he folded his hands into one another. It wasn't the first time he had apologized for the attack. Probably wouldn't be the last, either. He was the sort to over-apologize.

“Stop apologizing for it. I knew the risks when I started courting you. I'm only happy that Justice was put back in his place before anyone else got hurt.” She meant it.

“Still.” An extended pause. “I just feel like shit because I couldn't stop him from attacking you.”

“It's fine, Anders. It's...it's fine.” Claudia exposed her arm to him as proof that she was no longer injured and had survived. He only took a passing glance at her. “I've sustained worse.”

“Not from me.” Grumbled the mage solemnly.

“Anders.” Claudia took his hand with the annunciation of his name. His skin was softer than her own, from a life spent primarily behind books. Anders' hands were always cold, which was a nice contrast to her perpetually hot hands. It gave them balance. “That wasn't you. You've never struck me in the nine years we've been together. Except when I've been a naughty girl in need of a spanking, but that's different.”

He afforded her a snort and a grin.

“My point is, I know that you wouldn't have attacked me willingly.”

“If that ever happens again...if Justice ever turns on you like that, I want you to cut me down.”

Anders' demand hit her like a fist to the face. Claudia didn't have it in her to kill him. He had been her best friend and her beloved for so long; she would have rather suffered a thousand deaths than to have to be the one to end his life. His demand caused her heart to wretch in agony. The same could be said for his, she assumed based solely off of his expression.

Claudia wasn't the most skilled at elevating people's moods. But, given the long faces she and her lover were wearing, she needed to try. The woman crawled into his lap, straddling him between her legs. She took his face in both her hands, pulling him closer as she leaned in. He appeared confused, but willing to see what she had to say.

“If Justice turns on me again, I'll just have to work harder at subduing him until you come to.” It was a whisper, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging above.

“But, Claudia, what if—“

“—Shh.” The woman held a resolute finger to his lips in order to silence him. “If you're really this apologetic, why not kiss me and make it better?”

From behind Claudia's finger, Anders smirked crookedly. It was the look he wore when he was up to something naughty. Or thinking something naughty. One of his hands found the small of her back, which he utilized to inch her closer to him. The other cupped her cheek. His frigid fingers sent waves of cold trickling down her face. Their lips met in an instant, sweet and loving, initially. His lips were supple and tender and sweeter than anything she had ever tasted.

The longer they kissed, the more their passion grew. Their affections grew playful, with Claudia nipping at his bottom lip teasingly during much-needed breaks for air. She didn't realize how much she hungered for his touch until she felt it on her. The same could clearly be said for him, judging by how his hand once on her back had made itself comfortable on her backside. And, the more she kissed him and toyed with him, the more she craved it. Anders was an addiction she wished to never quit. A beautiful habit she couldn't live without.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Asked the woman seductively, denoting something deeper and more intimate than what they were currently engaged in.

“Here?” He looked around the hull quizzically.

“No. Up on deck, in the storm.” Quipped Claudia sarcastically. “Of course here. We're alone—besides the cat—and I doubt if any of the sailors are going to be coming down any time soon.”

“Are you sure?” Their eyes met. Anders' sparkled with thoughts of what she was proposing. Still, he was cautious. Claudia knew of his history, of how sex for him was always something meant to be rushed and secretive. Until he met her. It was a process, learning intimacy and teaching intimacy anew.

“I want to feel your skin against mine.”

Claudia didn't know if she expected him to truly react, but react he did. Their lips met once more in a torrent of desire. His other hand found her apple-shaped buttocks, which he gripped firmly. She met his gamble by slipping her tongue into his mouth. Anders groaned into her mouth as he guided her down, into a lying position.

His hands roamed her body without boundaries, eliciting a pleasured whimper from her. Their relationship hadn't been without physical intimacy, but the thrill of getting caught enticed her to want it more. She ran her hands along his spine as Anders dappled kisses along whatever bits of flesh he could find. He was working his way downward. Along her jawline. Down her neck. He pushed aside her tunic to gain access to her collarbone.

Already, Claudia was tugging at the laces that kept his trousers on. Despite her need for contact, the woman knew that they were potentially working with a time limit. She didn't want to waste time with teasing one another if they didn't need to. Anders, too, worked hastily at undressing her. He pulled her boots off quickly and tossed them to the side. Next were her leggings, which he tugged down swiftly. She was bare from the waist down. He, meanwhile, worked at finishing what she started with his trousers.

Anders only pulled down his trousers enough to free his manhood, which was half-erect, but steadily growing to its full size. His hand, recently freed from being occupied with his laces, found her womanhood in a move to goad her to arousal. He paused and looked at her, a form of asking her if he was permitted to continue. She nodded in his hesitation.

The mage tempted her clitoris with his thumb and forefinger as he worked his cock to full arousal with his other hand. The feeling of his fingers dancing upon her most sensitive parts was nothing short of magical. Even if he wasn't using any to spice things up. A moan of pleasure came forth in time with the rocking of the ship. Claudia counted herself lucky that they didn't go skidding too far, and managed to remain together. She almost didn't need his fingers; she had grown wet even before they had started to undress. Still, she wasn't going to refuse it. No, she appreciated it. So much that she reached out to stroke and tease his towering member. The mage slipped his newly freed hand into her tunic to stimulate her breasts and nipples.

But, teasing and coaxing only got her so far. And, it was the real thing that Claudia craved. She removed her hand from him and batted away his. Anders gave her a perplexed look. She responded with a coy smile.

“I don't want to wait anymore.”

Anders took her plea as invitation enough, which she was grateful for. He maneuvered himself between her legs, which she wrapped around him for added support. He grabbed his length at the base and attempted to slide it in. Due to the ship's rocking, he missed his mark. Claudia giggled girlishly in response. He tried once more, with renewed vigor. This time, he found his target.

A third of his cock slid in with little resistance. He groaned as it sank in; the sound of his pleasure always turned her on. The feeling of the foreign mass inside her didn't register until a split second later. It was never a painful feeling. Not with Anders. Just something that took some getting used to. His eyes remained trained on hers, waiting for the discomfort to subside before he proceeded. Claudia gave him a singular nod, her sign that she wanted him to continue.

At first, Anders took a slow pace. He gently slid in and out, pressing the length of his body to hers. His breathing was level and rhythmic, in tune with his thrusting. Claudia's was a bit more irregular, but eventually found synchronicity with his. Their bodies, despite the height difference, seemed to be molded by the same set of hands. It was a sentiment she thought whenever they joined bodily. But more than that, it was him on her mind. Him and him alone as he gathered speed. As his gentleness grew bolder as she wanted it to.

Her hands found his back. Anders was still wearing his coat and his pauldrons, much to her dismay. Claudia would have preferred to feel his skin under her fingertips and to feel his smattering of chest hair pressed into her breasts. Still, she enjoyed intimacy with her love however she could get it. And currently, that was below deck on a cargo ship.

Their bodies fell into a routine. He would arch into her as she pressed into his pelvis. Sweat was pooling between them where skin-to-skin contact was being made. Otherwise, it slicked Claudia's chest underneath her tunic, making the fabric cling to her body. Anders' hands pressed into the floorboards below her, keeping them in place. He took that shift in position as opportunity to give her a loving kiss. Which, she reciprocated gratefully.

“I want you closer.” Moaned Claudia. Low and hoarse and husky, barely audible among the sounds of the storm. His hips rocked in tandem with the swelling and swaying of the ocean, obeying her request. Diving him deeper, hitting every spot just _right_. His breathing had become ragged. Hers too. She was close.

Her body quivered with delight. Every second he was inside her was pure bliss. She didn't wish for it to end. Claudia's orgasm was building, though. The tingling in the pit of her abdomen grew rapidly and without hesitation. It raged on, driving her mad until she finally reached that culmination of their lovemaking. Claudia cried out in pleasure, at first openly, and then sealed within her lover's lips and mouth.

Anders' own thrusting grew erratic. Powerful. His release was building while Claudia's was ending. She did not separate, knowing that he was at the edge and about to burst.

When he did, his handsome face etched in a look of unbridled ecstasy, Claudia pushed his hair back, giving her full view. His cries escalated to a fever pitch, when before they had been sprinkled sparingly throughout. Their mouths were still connected, so it was muffled with her lips.

His tongue made contact with hers as his echoes slowed to a stop. Anders didn't stop kissing her, however. He devoured her lips over and again, where the rest of his body had gone stationary. Claudia's fingers became tangled in his hair. She accidentally tugged it free of the hair tie he used to pull half of it back. Waves of gold trickled down around them, framing their kiss.

It was she who finally separated. The tips of their noses met as she stared into his chocolate eyes, seeing nothing but his love for her stirring within them. Not Justice. Not his dislike of the mission they were going to embark on. Just love.

“I love you, Anders.”

"I love you, too.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The search for Fenris thus far had been fruitless. Probably because Anders had tasked Claudia with the responsibility of finding him. And, her idea of searching for him basically resulted in falling into her old routine while occasionally mentioning the elf in conversation. Varric had no idea where to find him, though chose to phrase his ignorance as _follow the trail of dead magisters, and you’ll find Fenris._ Aveline didn’t know, nor did she care, from what Anders could gather. He wasn’t causing her any trouble, so she had little need to keep an eye on his whereabouts.

It was starting to get to Anders. _He_ wasn’t about to go seek him out. Not without Claudia at his side. Fenris would surely attack him on-sight if he was without her. And, the mage had no qualms with defending himself from such an assault.

So, when Anders found Claudia lounging in bed, dangling a bit of dried fish before Ser Pounce-A-Lot, he was hardly surprised.

The cat nattered and whined without pause. He attempted to paw at Claudia’s stationary hand, positioned just out of his grasp. When he couldn’t reach, he just cried more. Louder.

She cast him a disappointed look. “Pounce, I know you have better manners than that.” Claudia chided of the animal. “If you ask nicely, I’ll let you have it.”

As if he understood her, Pounce rested on his haunches, eyes the size of saucers. But, he stopped pawing at her. A single, pitiful meow followed. His plea for the fish.

“Was that so hard?” She asked of the beast. “I knew you could be polite if you wanted.” And, she handed him the fish.

Pounce ate the morsel up greedily. He made happy little grunting noises with each bite. A soft purring filled the room as he finished his treat. Upon finishing, the cat licked his chops and cleaned his face before springing off the bed and trotting out of the room, singing melodiously in thanks for his prize.

“You spoil him.” Anders sat at the edge of the bed, watching as Claudia dusted what remained of the fish off of her hands. It pleased him that the cat liked her as much as he did. And vice versa.

“Pounce is a good boy. He deserves a treat every now and then.”

Many wouldn’t have considered Claudia the nurturing type. That was _his_ role in their relationship. From the outside, that was how things looked. She was the reckless Champion who threw herself into danger at every bend in the road. He was the fretful lover on the sidelines, pulling out his hair with every scrape and injury. However, in the privacy of their home, it was different. Anders couldn’t count the amount of times he woke up at a writing desk, blanket draped around his shoulders because it had been a cold night and she wanted him to be warm. Or, how she could come down to the clinic every morning with food for him. She would bring more if he forgot to eat that morning. Naturally, he extended the same sort of love and care to her. But, she wasn’t _always_ the brute people imagined.

“Have you been looking into Fenris’ whereabouts?” The tone Anders took was bitter, though not explicitly towards her. Mainly at the notion that he had agreed to this insane task.

“Yes.” Said Claudia hastily. “Well, sort of. I asked Varric, and he doesn’t know. But, I figured Isabela might know.”

“Why would she know?” Anders folded his arms over his chest.

“Because she and Fenris are _special friends_.” An amused grin took her face. “From my calculations, she should be docking in Kirkwall in the next couple of days. I can ask her then.”

“Have you even stopped by the docks or The Hanged Man to see if she arrived?” Even though Anders asked, he could wager a guess that the answer was ‘no’. He would have bet money on it if someone had suggested it.

As expected, Claudia mussed with her hair awkwardly and avoided his gaze. She _hadn’t_ checked, and had, up until this point, been relying on Varric’s word of mouth for information.

“Come on.” Demanded Anders. He found his feet and grabbed her wrists in an attempt to pull her out of bed. “We should go check if Isabela has docked yet if you’re so convinced she knows where Fenris is.”

“But what if she comes here first?” Contested Claudia. She was acting as dead weight in that moment. For someone so small in comparison to his size, she was rather sturdy and unmovable when she wanted to be.

“Then we will find her on the way, won’t we?” While there were multiple ways to the tavern and to the docks, it was a sound idea to take the fastest routes. And, given Isabela’s nature, if she did stop by the house before they returned, she probably would hang around, carving lewd drawings into the woodwork and going through their personal effects in an effort to find something naughty. Last time this happened, Anders walked in on the Pirate Queen, lounging in their bed, engrossed in his _special_ grimoire. She then promptly began harassing him about which spells got Claudia excited.

It was a process, getting Claudia ready to see the world outside her door. She was fighting it, favoring staying in bed and allowing Isabela to come to her. _I've earned the right_ she complained a couple of times, citing the fact that for seven years, she had to go find all of them and help on their tasks. But, she dressed with little difficulty other than complaints and left the house, hanging off his arm. 

They walked through the Hightown marketplace, sun warming their skin. Claudia lazily glanced at some of the stalls, taking an interest in some fine silks in jewel tones. Anders always liked such colors on her, especially purples and blues. It brought out the color of her hair and eyes magnificently. She didn't end up buying any bolts of fabric, though, and insisted about moving along with their task so she could hole herself in her estate and not have to deal with people any longer.

In Lowtown, it was easier to avoid the market stalls, due to the high volume of people getting their shopping done. Claudia weaseled her way through the crowds easier, being smaller and quick of feet. Anders, however, lost her on a couple of occasions, later to find her waiting several feet away for him.

From there, it was smooth sailing to The Hanged Man.

The smell of stale mead and piss intruded Anders' nose, uninvited. No matter how many times he came there over the years, it was something he never got used to. How Varric lived there for as long as he had, the mage couldn't begin to fathom. All of the usual patrons were busy drowning themselves in alcohol, despite the early hour. It was always busy at The Hanged Man, even when it was working hours. Though, many of the men present looked like salty men of the sea, not the usual rabble seen sitting at the table.

“Hawke!”

Anders could see her, already. Isabela stood out, with her penchant for finery and her repulsion to pants. She had been hustling the barkeep for more whiskey when they walked in, but her attention fell from that and onto them almost instantly. Whether it was his height or his lover's fiery locks, he was uncertain.

The Pirate Queen shoved her way through the crowd to get to Claudia, whom she embraced with great fondness. They had always been good friends, and remained so, even when time and distance separated them.

“It's been too long!” Chorused Claudia. She released Isabela to get a good look at her—but mostly the jewels decorating her person. “I _love_ that necklace!” 

Isabela touched a piece of gold hanging off her neck. “I got it in Nevarra last time I was there. I'll let you have a look at my share of the booty later and you can pick some jewels you would like.” Her honey-colored eyes turned to Anders, whom she regarded with a wolfish grin. “A bit of age looks good on you, Anders. How's the ole' spoilsport doing?”

“Fine.” He glowered at her proclamation that Justice was a spoilsport, even if it was mostly true.

“Good.” The pirate reached into her sash and pulled out a small coin purse made of reddish leather and tossed it at him. Though unprepared, the mage managed to catch it. “Why don't you and he get some drinks for us? Claudia and I will be upstairs in the room I rented.”

 

* * *

 

 

Anders was grumbling as they walked off, arm-in-arm, but he appeared to be doing so, regardless of his disdain. They ascended the stairs at each others' side. At the top, Isabela broke off to lead Claudia down to the room she had rented. It felt weird, not going straight into Varric's old room. Stranger still was the fact that it was no longer adorned with fine dwarven furniture and decorations. Claudia missed those days.

“You have to let me _borrow_ Anders sometime.” Suggested the pirate. “He really is aging well. I wouldn't mind seeing how he's matured below deck.”

Claudia sniggered. “He'll just  _ love _ being passed around like a library book!” She had no intention of sharing her lover. And, she knew Isabela had no intention of driving a wedge between them. Their happiness seemed to make her happy. “I do agree, though, on the aging bit.”

Isabela didn't mention her remark about borrowing him again. Which either denoted that she was joking to begin with, or picked up on the fact that Claudia was uncomfortable with the notion of sharing her lover with her friend. Although, she minded not in the slightest that they shared a sexual history prior to meeting her. It really wasn't any of her business, and Anders never gave her reason to believe he was being unfaithful, and with Isabela, nonetheless.

“Joking aside, how are you _doing_? Last time I was here...shit, that seemed like a lifetime ago. My point was, you weren't doing so well.” Isabela's room was the last one down the hall. She stepped in and made herself comfortable at a small, splintered table with chairs enough for two people. The furniture was worn and without the decadence she came to expect from the pirate, but she brought a few comforts from her ship with her. Some silken robes, probably from Orlais or Antiva, her raspberry-colored hat with snowy plumes made a home on the bedpost, and some maps and navigation tools were spread out across the table. 

“I'm doing okay, I guess.” Claudia wasn't sure how to answer the question. Nothing seemed quite honest. Yet, nothing seemed like a blatant lie, either. “I just...survive, take it one day at a time. Some are more difficult to get through than others, even now.” Claudia took a burdened breath. “I'm not...dwelling, I guess. I know I can't change the past. But, sometimes I'm just reminded of it and it hurts. You know?”

Isabela nodded in understanding. “And Anders has been...good about this?”

“As good as I can expect him to be.” She pulled back some of her hair from her face. “He's there for me when I want him and isn't when I would rather be alone. I'm grateful for that.”

“Well, it's his problem, too.” Isabela relaxed in her chair, going so far as to prop the toe of her left boot onto the edge of the table. “Today is a good day, though. Right?”

Claudia gave her a hasty nod. “It has been so far.”

They both fell silent for a time. Long enough for Anders to have retrieved their drinks and return with them. He still appeared grumpy, while juggling a tankard in each hand and one in the crook of his elbow. A bit of the liquid had spilled out and got onto his coat. Claudia didn't blame him for being upset. She really should have stayed downstairs and helped him. In order to make it up to him, she rose out of her seat and took two of the drinks from him; one for Isabela and herself.

“I'm sorry, Dearest. I should have helped you.” She apologized.

“It's alright.” He sounded exasperated, though forgiving. Still, he shot Isabela a dark look, which she simply smiled sweetly to. With his free hand, he reached into his pouch that he normally reserved for poultices and produced her coin purse. Anders set it on the table before retreating to the bed, which he took up as a seat.

Claudia found her chair again and handed Isabela the other tankard. She took it gratefully and wasted no time in drinking deeply from it.

“Claudia, did you ask her?”

“Ask me what?” Wondered Isabela.

The red head shuffled her feet under the table. She wasn't ready to ask. But, Anders had put her on the spot, giving her little option than to proceed. “Have you seen Fenris lately?”

“Why? Did he come to Kirkwall explicitly to piss in Anders' porridge and you want revenge?”

Claudia drank from her tankard sparingly. She didn't need to get drunk while discussing orders from the Divine. “No. I have a favor to ask of him. From the Divine. Sort of.”

“You're not shitting me, are you, Hawke?” Isabela was wary. Understandably so, given the bad blood between Anders and Fenris. “I'm not going to tell you where he is if your intention is to get revenge for some shit he said to Anders five years ago.”

Anders rolled his eyes from on the bed. His tankard was resting on his knee. Untouched. “We're really on a task from the Divine and we require aid from Fenris to complete it. I've already promised to be civil.”

Claudia placed her tankard onto the table softly while Isabela gulped down several mouthfuls from her own. “I have no issues with Fenris, and this task will be bringing us to the Imperium. I have never been, same with Anders. We need someone who knows the country, knows the language. He'd be compensated, of course. And he'd be free to refuse. I'm not going to twist his arm into making him come along.”

Isabela rested her chin in her hand. Her stare fell to the map spread out across the table. It was one of Thedas, faded and torn with use, but still readable. She pursed her lips before placing her right index finger onto a coastal location in Antiva. “Here. Antiva City. I dropped him off a couple of months ago. He heard about the slave market there and wanted to investigate for himself. Thought maybe some magisters would have made the trip there to buy elf flesh on the cheap. That's what he has been up to lately; slaughtering magisters.”

“You're the best, Isabela.”

“I know.” The pirate beamed proudly.

“One more tiny little thing?” Implored Claudia.

“You want me to get you to Antiva?” Isabela did not sound surprised at all.

“Yes. And thank you in advance.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders arrive in Antiva City in search of Fenris.

Claudia had never been to Antiva. The closest she usually ventured was the mountainous region that shared a border with Kirkwall. She had always been on the Free Marches side of that divide. Even when she and Anders had been on the run from the Chantry and the government and the Templars, they had avoided Antiva. Not for any particular reason except the thought of sand invading every crevice of her body turned Claudia off the prospect. She was sure it was a beautiful nation.

Beautiful, it was.

Isabela’s ship had sailed into port just as the sun was beginning to set. The entirety of Antiva City glittered like a rare jewel. Brilliant, with orange and pink hues gleaming across the buildings. The air was warm, and heavy with the scent of the ocean and spices and wine. Anders balked that it smelled more like mold and rotting fish. However, he was an eternal pessimist.

No doubt, the people were just as lovely. Claudia had sparing interactions with Antivans, but each of them had been just as beautiful as those she was seeing in that moment. Even the dockworkers and laborers were a spectacle, with their rippling muscles and thick hair flowing in the wind. In Kirkwall, while there were diamonds to be found, it was nowhere near the volume as in Antiva.

It made Claudia suddenly self-conscious. She was a smelly Ferelden turnip in a land of splendor and decadence.

Isabela and her crew worked at docking her ship. Mainly, she barked orders and supplemented their duties where need be. Claudia and Anders stood side-by-side, watching as they pulled the ship in and tethered it to one of the posts on the docks. The woman was prepared to crack a joke about Isabela’s care in proper docking procedures for fear of losing yet another ship. But, she remembered that it had been _her_ who had gotten the vessel for Isabela in the first place, and the trouble that ensued as a result.

It took about half an hour—give or take—before the crew started laying down planks for them to go dockside. Isabela joined them, claiming that they would only get lost trying to navigate a new city in a foreign country. She was truthful, of course. Claudia only knew the King’s Tongue and obscene words in the King’s Tongue. Anders knew the same, as well as some obscenities and a handful of phrases in Ander.

“We’ll probably find Fenris near the red-light district.” Suggested Isabela once they were out of sight of her ship.

“He’s taken a liking to prostitutes, I see.” Claudia’s musings were only funny to her.

Anders trailed half a pace behind them. Uncomfortably silent. He had been seething since they reached Antiva. Claudia knew there was nothing she could do to elevate his mood, just short of turning around and heading back to Kirkwall.

“The red-light district is where they sell the slaves—children born to prostitutes who died in child labor. Or, the brothel wishes to no longer house them. Many will go to the assassins guilds here in Antiva. Those who don’t get bought by the guilds will be discreetly forced onto ships bound to the Imperium.” Nothing about the way Isabela spoke those words made her sound as though she accepted or tolerated this practice. Claudia recalled her mentioning a lover of hers. Antivan, and a Crow. She wondered if this person had been subjected to this treatment, which resulted in Isabela’s ire.

Or, perhaps it was because she was the sort of person who believed that everyone deserved freedom. It was a noble desire.

The red-light district was certainly _something_. Buildings were tightly packed together, with men and women alike coursing between them in search of temporary affection. Some of the establishments had one of their prettiest of handsomest employees standing out front, scantily clad and cooing softly in their native tongue in an effort to convince those out to shop that theirs was the best.

Anders pulled Claudia in roughly. His broad hand cinched her at the smallest part of her waist, establishing a visible connection between them. He was jealous of any wanton looks she may or may not have been receiving and wanted to make it obvious that he was the one that kept her heart. Or, at least that he had paid to hold it in his hands for some time. Claudia mirrored the action with him; it wouldn’t have been the first time someone attempted to buy his love for the night. And, she was capable of becoming just as jealous as he when Anders received attention from unwanted suitors.

Isabela, however, ate up the attention she was receiving like a delicacy. She accepted the looks, while giving a few of her own. When young men and women just into their sexual maturity looked her way, she waved coyly, causing them to blush and turn away. Even the prostitutes followed her with their gaze.

Claudia admired her. Not just her beauty and her skill in battle, but also her confidence. It had taken her three long years to confess to Anders her feelings for him without clouding it with jokes or with passing it off as a flirtatious personality. She couldn’t vouch for how much Anders had actually believed such lies. But, they gave her comfort when she couldn’t handle the situation.

Isabela led them through the twisting streets. The brothels grew smaller, dingier, and less illuminated. These were roads less traveled, as evidenced by the smaller crowds of people who appeared to know where they were going. Many kept their heads down, eyes trained on the stone pavement until they found their destination.

It was there that another crowd surged, but not like the ones outside the brothels. Men with shifty eyes gathered round. Most of whom were equipped with daggers and swords and staves. All casting a hungry gaze at the children being displayed like pigs for the slaughter. The youngest of whom was a small elven girl, no older than five.

Claudia grappled for Anders’ arm as her heart wretched in pain. They were just children! Slavery was wrong in every instance. But this—it made her sick to her stomach. She looked up to her lover, hoping to be consoled by him.

His jaw set in a harsh line as he watched the children be auctioned off like property. A fine sheen of sweat cloaked his skin. The veins closest to his skin sparked blue briefly. Fleetingly. Anders was battling with Justice at that very moment, Claudia knew. He couldn’t offer her the comfort she needed.

“Keep it together.” Murmured Isabela. Her own eyes were narrow and dark.

“They’re just children, Isabela!” Hissed Claudia. The fingers on her free hand twitched anxiously, demanding a dagger in its clutches.

Isabela nudged her in the ribcage and pointed just beyond the crowd. “Look.”

There. A shadowy figure approached. Small. Petite. Though powerful and with a sword nearly as big as them strapped to their back. Their moon-kissed hair shone brilliantly despite the darkness. As did the glowing, blue patterns adorning his body.

_Fenris._

Claudia broke away from Anders and approached the elf. Isabela protested, especially as Anders stalked off after her. They had fallen within several meters of him before he noticed.

And, when he did, his jade eyes trained on the mage, he panicked.

“Kaffas!” Bellowed the elf before taking off into a frenzied sprint in the opposite direction.

“Fuck!” Cursed Claudia, taking off after him.

Fenris was nimble and quick, even with a weighty weapon strapped to his person. And, he had the advantage of knowing how the city twisted and turned. Claudia was gaining ground. He was just out of arms’ reach.

Then, he took a sharp turn to the right.

Claudia did not expect this. She skidded to a halt and made the turn. This allowed Fenris to gain ground.

“Wait!”

Fenris did not oblige.

However, he was coming to a dead end. The side of a building blocked his path. Claudia smiled to herself. There was nowhere to run.

Except, he _scaled_ the damn wall with ease!

Claudia groaned aloud. Without bothering to check if the others were following, she climbed the wall as well.

Fenris took to the rooftops well. His bare feet made it easier to proceed without losing balance. Claudia was not so lucky. Her boots made it harder to grip onto the slanted roof. She slipped.

Claudia skidded down the side of the roof. Tiles went falling to the pavement below, shattering on impact. That would have been her, as well. If she hadn’t been quick to grab the storm drain.

She dangled, suspended in the air. She struggled to find her footing. A fall from this height would end in broken bones. Maybe death. Some people from below spotted her. They gasped and pointed and offered exclamations in Antivan.

Her palms were sweaty and her fingers weak. Claudia panicked and worked that much harder at pulling herself up. She was slipping. Slipping. Slip—

—Just with seconds to spare, Claudia pulled herself up. Fenris was already further ahead. He had leaped across the roof to another. With renewed vigor, she chased after in the same direction. After nearly falling off the roof, clearing the jump was nothing to worry herself over.

And she did make it over just fine. However, the landing hurt her knees something fierce. It didn’t used to hurt, making jumps like that. _Maker_. She was getting old.

She pressed on, ignoring her knees the best she could. Fenris jumped down. Claudia assumed onto an awning. She put faith into him, and followed.

There _was_ an awning. One that Claudia tumbled roughly off of. She went crashing into a nearby market stall. Hitting her left side hard. The woman howled in pain as she found her feet in order to resume her pursuit.

She was tired. So very tired. Every part of her body perspired and ached. She really _was_ out of practice. In her younger days, Claudia could have run laps around him.

Fenris was leading her down a narrow gangway. He appeared to be growing tired as well. His pace was slowing. Claudia pushed herself. She gained ground, but not enough to be within range to tackle him. Plus, the idea of throwing herself onto his sword was not her intention.

In his fatigue, Fenris made a miscalculation. The alley he had lead her down was a dead end, with a wall too high and too smooth for him to climb.

The elf looked back at her, conceding, but defeated.

“Going to call your leashed dog to finish me off now, Hawke?”

“I’m…I’m assuming you mean…Anders.” Claudia was doubled over, panting. Exhausted. Sweat dripped off her face and body as though she was standing in the rain. “That isn’t…very nice, by the way.”

“You provide him with a roof over his head, food in his dish, and a place at the foot of your bed. In exchange, he humps your leg and will obey your word almost completely.” Fenris snorted contemptuously. “It’s a fitting analogy.”

Claudia had caught her breath. Still, every part of her ached. Especially her side where she had hit it. She clapped a hand over it, convincing herself that pressure would help dull the pain. It didn't.

“You know, you could have…oh, I don’t know…actually heard us out? We didn’t come here to hurt you.” The woman bit off her words harshly, making her anger evident. “So much for me spending all that time helping you learn to read and slaying droves of magisters and slavers together, I see.”

Fenris averted his gaze from her. She couldn't tell if he felt guilty for his assumptions, or if he was still mad at her and wished not to look upon her any longer. It didn't matter. What happened was in the past, and there was no changing it. She did, however, lay down her daggers before her feet as a testament of her goodwill. This, he did notice.

“I'm about to embark on an important task, Fenris; I need someone with your skills and knowledge.” A pause. “Plus, it will give you reason to beat the shit out of any and every slaver you come across.”

The elf perked up a bit, though still made a big show of scowling and looking miserable. When Anders and Isabela rounded into the alley, however, the look of bitterness deepened and was no longer for show.

“Claudia! Are you—ah.” The mage's concern turned into contempt. “Hello, Fenris.” The words poured from his lips like poison.

“Anders.” Fenris matched his tone. Poisoned tongue and all.

“Well, isn't this lovely?” Sang Claudia uncomfortably. “A nice little reunion among friends.”

Anders grumbled something in the vein of _he's no friend of mine_. 

“As I was saying before the others were so kind as to join us, I have a task that requires someone of your particular skill set.”

“Anders is going.” Groused Fenris He adjusted to give the three a better look at his sword. A warning of what was to come if they threatened him. “I refuse.”

Claudia made a spectacle of a sigh. She threw herself in the opposite direction, looking rather upset and unprepared for this turn of events. The truth was, she had been preparing for it since the moment she got the idea to invite Fenris. He had every right to refuse, but she had every right to demand that he hear her out before shooting her down.

“Aren't you even going to hear what I'm suggesting?”

“No.”

Anders groaned audibly from his place next to Isabela. He too was unhappy with the situation he found himself in, this Claudia knew. Yet, he had promised her that he would go on her task. And, that he would do his best at remaining civil with Fenris. “Do you have to be so bull-headed? Would it be so hard just the listen to what she has to say and making a judgment then?”

“You're not making things any better, Anders.” Murmured Isabela to the mage.

“Good!” Anders snapped back. “Claudia had to chase him around Antiva City just to ask him a question, and now he's refusing to listen.” The man stepped up and placed a hand on Claudia's shoulder. She hardly registered the gesture. “Let's go, Love. You've wasted enough of your time and your breath on him.”

Something about Anders' words triggered a reaction in Fenris. His brows knit together, frustrated. One of his hands was balled into a provoked fist. Claudia thought he would strike Anders then and there. He didn't. She counted herself lucky. Instead, he breathed in, his countenance calming a bit. Yet, his upset was still rather prominent on his face.

“We'll talk. Somewhere private.”

While Claudia was positive Fenris had only agreed to make a jackass of Anders, she wasn't about to complain. The elf led them to a small tavern in the market district. She assumed it was his favored haunt. Though, it wouldn't surprise her if she was wrong. The situation was explained in great detail over several rounds of ale. Anders eventually cut Claudia off when she began going red in the face and giggling even at things that were not meant to be jokes.

It felt like hours. Hours of explaining and planning and discussing. Hours that Claudia felt were better left exploring a foreign city. Fenris was engaged in the conversation the entire time. And, eventually, he agreed to accompanying them. Reluctantly. On Anders' word that he would be on his best behavior. He gave such a promise begrudgingly. For Claudia's sake.

By the time negotiations were through, Claudia was far too tired to worry about seeing the city, and wanted nothing more than to climb in bed next to Anders and with Pounce wedged between them after he patched up some of the wounds she accumulated in her chase.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only written very briefly for Fenris. I'm doing my best to keep him in character.
> 
> Thank is all.

Fenris wasn't necessarily attempting to avoid the crew of the ship. Yet, that was how things turned out. He wasn't the best at socializing. And, while his people skills had increased by leaps and bounds since he had first arrived in Kirkwall nearly a decade ago, he still felt uncomfortable around strangers. Fenris trusted Isabela, of course. She wouldn't have hired malcontents out to sell him back into slavery. She was just as opposed to the practice as he was. It had been something they discussed at length over pillows once they had finished taking their pleasure from one another.

But, it wasn't nearly as difficult to handle as the fact that he was _trapped_ on the ship with Anders. Normally, in Kirkwall, if Anders had said something or done something that didn't sit right with him, he could bury himself in Danarius' estate or elsewhere to get away. It was Fenris' comfort, knowing that Anders wouldn't invade his space without reason. Usually that meant Claudia was dragging him there by the hair. He would complain the whole time, as though _he_ was miraculously the only person discomforted by the situation.

Likewise, Fenris never showed his face in Darktown or the clinic unless a mutual friend had brought him along. Those were the rules they played by. Unspoken, they were, but neither broke them in the six years they lived in Kirkwall. It was the only way to guarantee that they wouldn't wind up murdering each other.

Applying their rules to Isabela's ship just didn't work. The first real day on their voyage was spent awkwardly trying to discern which space was his and which space was Anders'. Fenris soon realized that Anders occupied whatever space was closest to Claudia's hip, which ruled out any and all conversation with her. They shared a cabin that Isabela had designated theirs ahead of time. Fenris, too, was given a cabin of his own. Though, he occasionally found more comfort within Isabela's arms.

But, it wasn't enough. He felt caged in the small room. It would have brought memories of his life as a slave rushing to the forefront if he could claim any grasp of them. As it was, whenever he sought retreat above deck, Anders was present, circling Claudia like a vulture as she helped out with ship duty as a means to occupy her time. This meant Fenris was to occupy below deck.

By the third day, seasickness settled in.

Fenris spent a day in bed, nursing his nausea by chewing on ginger-root Isabela had provided him and eating sparingly. She also suggested that he seek out Anders. Because if anyone knew of a tonic or a remedy, it would have been him. Otherwise, she recommended fresh air.

He was stubborn. Stubborn and proud. Asking Anders for a cure, whether he needed it or not was out of the question. Going above deck, where Anders most likely occupied his time, was certainly not an option.

When he wasn't feeling better by the fifth day, Fenris made a conscious effort to get out of bed and to get some fresh air, just as Isabela suggested.

The day was a beautiful one, he observed as he climbed the stairs leading out of the hull. Not a cloud was streaked across the expansive blue sky. Wind was pleasant, enough for the ship to sail smoothly upon the sparkling waters. But, also dull enough to give the crew a break from their duties. They were circled around near the mast, watching with interest at something just beyond Fenris' field of vision.

Despite the nausea threatening to expel everything he had eaten that morning without the smell of unwashed bodies intruding his nose, Fenris pushed through the sea of strangers in order to see what the commotion was.

Claudia and Isabela were locked in a duel. Or rather, Isabela showing her how to duel. Both women were wielding wooden rods in place of daggers. Practice. To keep the senses sharp and the body prepared. Isabela would demonstrate a technique to Claudia, who would practice it a few times before moving on to the next one. It looked more the way Isabela fought, for it was far too brazen and noticeable to be how Claudia handled battle. Claudia took to the shadows and didn't want to be seen until throats were slit, whereas Isabela wanted to see the fear in her opponent's eyes the whole time.

No doubt a great amount of skill and practice went into perfecting such a technique. Even so, Fenris found it terribly dull to watch. It was a wonder that the crew did not feel the same. However, after Isabela gave Claudia mere seconds to perfect a jabbing move, she lunged at her with her own rods, locking them in an actual duel.

The pirates around him hollered and guffawed as Claudia, taken aback, attempted to stave off Isabela's attacks. The women were grinning and taunting each other in a way that only seemed friendly from them. It was all in good nature. And, far more entertaining than watching a lesson. Everyone seemed to agree, judging by how the whistling and cheering grew to a fever pitch. It wasn't every day that they got to see their captain—a beautiful woman—engaged in combat with the Champion of Kirkwall—also a beautiful woman.

No matter how much more entertainment Fenris was able to claim from watching them at that moment, the air was thick and heavy with the stench of un-bathed sailors. It did nothing for his churning stomach. If anything, it made it worse. He saw his way out of the crowd and retreated hastily towards the stern of the ship.

He threw himself into the guard rail and dry heaved several times, expecting his stomach to expel its contents once more. The bile from within was bubbling up into his throat. Yet, when he coughed and gagged, nothing came out. Fenris choked down the bile with a disgruntled groan. Leaving bed was a bad idea.

Then, from his side, he heard an unwelcome, though familiar giggle.

Fenris cast his eye in that direction, not surprised to see Anders taking amusement in his misery. He was stifling it from behind his hand, a coy look crossing his face with the action. Fenris was mere seconds away from wiping that grin off his face. If only his stomach would cooperate.

“You're looking a little green around the gills.” Joked Anders cruelly. He was aiming to push buttons.

Fenris gritted his teeth as his hold on the rail tightened. “Shut up, mage.” There was no need to threaten pain and misery upon him. It was a given.

Anders continued to laugh, occasionally casting a wary eye in the direction of Claudia and Isabela's duel. The crew was growing raucous with each passing second.

Likewise, Fenris was growing frustrated. He didn't like Anders mocking him, no less when he was clearly in a state of suffering. No matter how civil he was trying to be for the sake of the promise he made to Claudia, his patience was being tried and he didn't know how much longer he could last without instigating a confrontation.

Without warning, another wave of nausea hit him. The whole of Thedas was spinning around his head. The only thing Fenris could do was tighten his grip and pray to the Maker than they reached shore soon. He didn't know how long he could last with this sensation. He gagged some more, this time actually vomiting into the ocean. The spinning stopped, but he still felt terrible.

“Maker's breath!” Exclaimed Anders. “You really are sick.”

“Astute observation.” Grumbled Fenris sarcastically.

Fenris didn't bother looking in the mage's direction, but he could hear him digging for something from within the pouch hanging off his hip. It sounded like glass clinking against glass. Not hollow, but solid, or filled with something. Several seconds went on, silent except the sounds of the glass and the light breeze hitting the sails fell between them. That was, until Anders closed the gap between them, arm outstretched, a vial of a milky liquid in his palm.

“Drink this.”

He fell back a step, wiser than to take anything Anders gave him. For all he knew, it was poison. Anders had already proven himself well-versed in various uses for plants, including those more toxic.

“I'll pass.”

“Stop being a child and take it.” Demanded Anders harshly. “It's just to curb nausea and to settle the stomach. I make them for Claudia; she won't miss one or two.”

Fenris remained resolute. He couldn't be certain that Anders would attempt to poison him. But at the same time, the animosity between them was enough to believe it a possibility.

“Fine.” Resolved Anders. He opened his hip pouch back up and was preparing to put the mixture back in. “But don't come bitching to me in a few days when the nausea is worse.”

With brows furrowed, Fenris stormed up to Anders and took the vial. He was proud, yes, but not proud enough to deny help when it was given. Even from an enemy. Even from a man who caused anger to flow through him like lava. The cork that kept the vial closed was yanked off with his teeth. Fenris spit it back into his free hand once done with it. And overwhelming fragrance of elfroot and ginger hit his nostrils. And, as Isabela had been giving him ginger for his ailment, he trusted that there was some truth to Anders' claims that it was truly for nausea.

Snapping his eyes shut, Fenris threw back its contents. The gingery taste coated his tongue and burned his throat going down, but otherwise, he felt no worse for wear. He continued breathing deeply, sucking in the salty sea air from between his teeth to stave off the sickness.

It got better.

Within minutes, Fenris started to feel his stomach calm. He still felt strange, not completely better. But, it was manageable, something he could handle. No longer did he feel as though he would be sick with each swaying of the ship. Anders was still next to him, disinterested in the elf any longer. The sailors had moved aside, giving him a clear view of Isabela's and Claudia's duel. Isabela was winning, clearly, but Claudia appeared to be holding her ground decent enough.

Anxiously, Fenris looked to Anders, who was still too engrossed in ignoring his presence to notice. He was grateful, even if he did not anticipate an act of kindness from Anders.

“I...thank you.”

Anders quirked an eyebrow, turning his head only slightly to view him. Fenris may not have expected a remedy, but Anders surely did not expect a thank you from it. That much was obvious.

“You're welcome.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize. I'm a few minutes late with this chapter. My family came over and stayed much later than I expected, so I couldn't finish up what I needed to in order to get this posted on time. 
> 
> Thank you for understanding.

In his youth, Anders would fantasize about the Tevinter Imperium. A land straight out of fairy stories he heard as a boy. A land where every mage was free. In fact, a land where mages rose through the ranks and governed an entire society. The sort of place imprisoned young mages with a serious case of wanderlust and a taste for freedom would idolize. Anders still had had it, a Tevinter Chantry amulet that Claudia had given him when she was still trying to persuade his love. He even still wore it. Under his clothes, as he had promised. It was mostly for her these days; no longer did he require tokens of protest.

In recent times, however, the Imperium seemed less and less like a paradise for downtrodden mages, and more like the oppressive society he worked so hard at changing. Except it wasn’t mages that remained prisoners, but everyone else.

What Anders knew about it was a matter of word of mouth. Reliable, his sources were. But, it was never from firsthand experience. He knew that while they scoffed at the idea of blood magic in the presence of charming company, many engaged in it behind closed doors. He knew they kept slaves. He knew they routinely captured innocent humans and elves and sold them into slavery. He knew that anyone unable to conjure magic was viewed as lesser.

It was an empire built on the backs of slaves, and forged with magic, and blood, and coin.

With that in mind, it no longer felt like Anders’ concept of paradise. Now, it was more a nightmare.

And they had been stranded there for nearly two weeks without having received word from the Divine, yet.

They had been renting a couple of rooms in a tavern located dockside in Minrathous. Everything smelled like fish. Even Anders’ clothes were beginning to smell of it. Pounce had been exceptionally affectionate as a result. Especially with Claudia. Whom Anders suspected was hiding tasty morsels in her pack for the cat. Confronting her on it would only get him a puppy-dog expression and the inability to stay mad, because the only harm she truly was causing was in the form of an overly-affectionate feline.

The three of them had spent every day since arriving, sitting in the tavern. Claudia assured them periodically that the Divine’s agents would find them with their first order. Anders shared in her hope, at first. Then, as the days dragged on, and the stench of fish seemed to become a natural part of who he was, he doubted her conviction.

By that point, Anders could tell that Claudia’s resolve was breaking. She still reminded them daily that Divine Victoria had promised them an agent. And agent who had yet to show their face. He was sure she only said such things for her own benefit. Because even she didn’t believe it.

Anders would have been happy to explore the city that day, but the weather was unfavorable. Thick, gray clouds lingered overhead. Rain poured from them, making it unsavory exploration conditions. It did sound rather pretty pelting against the roof and the glass, though.

They were trapped inside. This left both he and Fenris in sour moods. Because Claudia had insisted that if the weather was going to detain them, they were better off pretending to all be friends and get along.

What this meant was both he and Fenris shot each other dangerous looks over hands of cards.

Claudia was the only one drinking, but even her tankard sat abandoned next to their discard pile. Ignored.

Anders had noticed, in passing, a small group at the adjacent table taking a keen interest in them. He would have pegged them for the Divine’s agents if not for the fact that they spoke to one another in Tevene and didn’t look like they were the type to be little birds for one of the most powerful women in Thedas.

Claudia played a hand, strangely silent for her. She had grown tired of faking an interest in conversation. That meant it was Anders’ turn. He, however, was too busy trying to figure out what the group at the other table was saying with his very limited grasp of Tevene.

Claudia elbowed him to focus his attention, which only resulted in him jolting due to not expecting it and spilling his cards all over the table.

“Shit.” Cursed Claudia. Already scooping up all the cards from the table so that she may deal a new hand to each of them. Fenris forfeited his cards over to her for that purpose. “What had you so distracted that you didn’t realize it was your turn?”

“I think those people over there are talking about us.” He discreetly jerked his head in their direction.

“They are.” Grumbled Fenris. Cold.

Claudia placed the deck of cards back on the table. She had become suddenly more interested in the conversation at hand than playing card games. “Oh?” She inquired with an exaggerated upwards inflection. “What are they saying? Do they think my hair looks nice?”

“They think Anders is a magister and are wondering what he’s doing slumming in taverns such as this one.” Fenris’ response was curt as he completely ignored her ploy to get compliments.

Anders wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t like he was making it obvious that he was a mage. Not that it mattered; he was a free man in the land of mages. “I don’t know how they reached that conclusion, I’m not—“

“—You dress like a mage, have your staff propped up against your chair, and you’ve been using magic to warm up Claudia’s hands between games. You’re just short of shouting it from the rooftops.”A low, husky chuckle followed. “Or, have you gotten that all out of your system in Kirkwall?”

Anders glowered at him and adjusted in his chair. Claudia only shrugged when Anders looked to her for defense. He wasn’t going to get it from her. Not when she was trying to act as a neutral party between them.

Fenris’ eyes narrowed. Not towards Anders, but rather, at the discussion at the other table. Anders figured him to still be keeping an ear on things over there.

“They think I’m _his_ slave.” Fenris grumbled towards Claudia in a hushed tone as to conceal his words. An icy glance in Anders’ direction denoted who Fenris spoke of. The idea must have left a bad taste in his mouth.

“What?” She exclaimed, a bit too loud. “Explain.”

Fenris was tense. Anders didn’t have to like him to know that the matter of slavery was a sensitive subject to him. He couldn’t blame Fenris for that. Not really. The things he imagined Danarius must have done were unacceptable. He had enough decency not to wish that treatment on Fenris, no matter how poorly they got on.

“They cannot agree upon whether you are the wife or the more prized slave.” His words were low, hissed through his teeth.

“Then they must not be too bright.” Observed Claudia with a flippant tone. “On both accounts.”

“You know very little of slavery, especially from your position as Kirkwall’s beloved Champion.” Argued Fenris.

Anders did not like his tone. His words came across as insulting. Ire to be spat at Claudia to punish her for what she did not know. Anders was not about to let someone be so rude to her. Not while he was there. His hands clenched into tight fists.

“You have no right to talk to her that way!” He demanded, just under a shout. Several people from other tables had ceased their discussions to see what the commotion was.

Anders expected Fenris to respond in a combative manner. Or, at least with openly hostile words. He looked angry, like he would leap across the table and tear Anders’ heart from his chest.

Fenris did no such thing.

His hands, which were was tightly wound as Anders’, relaxed. He placed them onto the table. Tentatively. Cautiously. A glance was cast at Claudia, whom Anders quickly stole a look to in order to see why Fenris had looked at her. She looked apologetic, but not towards him, her lover. Towards Fenris.

“It was not my intention to offend Claudia.” Explained Fenris. He hardly sounded calm. Like he was mere seconds away from attacking. Surprisingly, he remained composed, despite the threat his tone posed.

“No harm done.” Claudia waved off the sort-of apology with a flourish of her wrist. She leaned in to Anders, touching a gentle hand to his forearm. “Relax, my sweet.” Claudia softly murmured in his ear. “He meant nothing by it.”

Anders sucked in a breath and laced his fingers around hers. While he was still angry about Fenris’ tone of voice with her, she found no fault in it. He was not about to start a fight with her there. Not when he knew it would ultimately upset her.

“My point was,” Began Fenris anew, “you are not accustomed to seeing slavery. Here—“ He gestured vaguely, meaning the Imperium, “magisters are known to take great pride in pretty slaves. They often dress them up and parade them around like exotic pets or fashion accessories. To be admired by other magisters. Some get treated nicely when in public, as a show of the magister’s character—“

“— _Look at him, how well-dressed and lovely his slaves are!”_ Mocked Claudia in an attempt to make it clear she understood what he spoke of. “ _And he is so kind to them, allowing them to sit at his table and shuffle his cards and engage in conversation while he is present. Like people. Perhaps we should consider supporting him?”_

“My point exactly.” Affirmed Fenris. “Many ‘groom’—or brainwash—their slaves. To get them to act a certain way or speak a certain way. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone to assume that you are just a slave who has been trained to act in a favorable manner at your master’s advances, to warm his bed, and to...er…polish his staff upon demand.”

“I do a lot more than polish it.” Claudia’s words may have become muffled in the tankard she was bringing to her lips, but Anders still heard her loud and clear.

A bright red blush spread across his face, all the way to his ears. Anders wasn’t a prude. Not in the slightest. Still, his partner divulging aspects of their private life together made him uncomfortable.

“Claudia!” Anders bellowed, the cracking of his voice made him sound more the part of a pubescent boy than a middle-aged man.

“What?” She sounded genuinely surprised by his response. Still, she pulled her hand free from his in order to pat his knee affectionately. “I just want to make it known that I’m not some one-trick pony.”

“I know you’re not, Love, but you don’t need to share what we do behind closed doors with others.” He gave her a sheepish look, pleading for her to keep her mouth shut about things better kept between them.

Fenris grunted. “For once, I agree with him. Keep it to yourselves.”

A snort, followed by girlish giggling from behind him alerted Anders. He whipped around, not sure what he expected to see. Still, he had his hand clutched, ready to produce something destructive, if need be. His heart was pounding furiously, conditioned to be ready at a moments' notice due to his past experiences.

What he saw was a petite Dalish woman with striking violet eyes and raven hair, laughing from behind her own tankard.

“Lyna?” He gasped. Anders hadn't expected to see her after their meeting with the Divine.

“You always look so surprised when you see me.” The woman humored, pulling her chair up to their table. He couldn't tell if she had been there a while, or just got in. “I suppose that means that I'm doing my job correctly.”

“You're the woman we met in the Chantry.” Claudia's observation was rhetorical in nature. Either that, or to share information with Fenris. He hadn't been there to make her acquaintance, earlier.

“You're hard people to find.” Hummed Lyna. Her drink sloshed around in her tankard animatedly. Some leaped out and spilled onto her wrist. She ignored that. “I would think that searching for a ridiculously tall, lanky blonde man, who probably spends his time spreading the word of mage rights, or whatever your current plight is, and his pretty, red-haired companion would be easier.” Another drink from the tankard. “But, my Tevene is awful, so really, I've just been going to all the shitty little taverns for the last week and a half with the hopes of finding you both.”

“So, you're the Divine's agent?” The question sounded silly in his mouth, more so when whispered in a busy tavern. Anders knew that the Dalish didn't worship the Maker. He also knew that the woman had a separate life and duties that made her unable to act as her wife's agent. That was what he believed, at least.

Lyna hissed a plea for silence from behind a single, extended finger. Anders quickly guessed that their meeting was planned. That any of all mentions of the Divine were supposed to be kept to a minimum.

“Me? No.” She balked at the idea. Her voice instantly dropped to a whisper. Something only meant for them. “Well, maybe. Sort of. I have my own business to conduct here, and it just so happened to coincide with when Leli wanted to send orders. I figured, why not kill two birds with one stone and have me come drop it off?” Her question was punctuated with a weak shrug.

“That seems like a fair point.” Said Fenris.

Lyna's attention drifted to Fenris. She studied his lyrium markings carefully. Anders wondered if she was comparing them to any knowledge she had of the Dalish blood writing. Though, he was unsure if she knew much about it beyond that mature Dalish elves receive them. So much of their history had been lost.

“Aren't you going to introduce me, Anders? For that matter, I would like a proper introduction to Hawke, as well.” She feigned a pout that would have looked quite comfortable of Claudia's face. “There wasn't much time with that back in Orlais.”

Anders rolled his eyes playfully. Still, he planned on humoring her. Lyna had always been a friend to him. She provided him a safe haven when Rylock would have seen him killed or made Tranquil. She gave him purpose, broke bread with him, and treated him nothing less than her equal and her friend. It pained him to have left the Wardens on the note he did, if only because he felt like he betrayed someone who had only ever shown him kindness.

“Lyna Mahariel, this is Claudia Hawke.” He gestured towards Claudia. “Claudia, this is Lyna. You know each others titles, already.”

“I'm charmed to make you acquaintance again, Lady Hawke.” Sang Lyna sweetly, extending a hand out to Claudia for shaking.

Claudia accepted her hand and dipped her head out of respect. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“And the grumpy-looking one is Fenris.” Anders made no attempt at hiding his bitterness.

Fenris' response was to look even grumpier and displeased with Anders. To which, he responded with his own look of disdain.

“It's lovely to make your acquaintance as well.” Ever gracious, Lyna extended her hand to Fenris. He responded by brushing off her hand entirely. Still, he bowed his head and offered a platitude that sounded more awkward and heavily practiced than anything else.

“I didn't come here to exchange pleasantries, though.” Said Lyna. She reached into her pack and started searching for something. Her possessions made a ruckus when they brushed against one another from inside the leather bag.

“But, you just—“

“—I didn't come all this way to hear your sass, Anders.” She produced what she was looking for. It was a yellowed bit of parchment. Wrinkled and a bit damp, probably from being shoved in her bag, but still in good condition. No wax seal kept it short. Nor was there any address or name to make it possible for a courier to be able to find a recipient. Lyna slid it across the table to Claudia. Hers was a look of knowing caution.

“I'm sure you know the drill. You never saw me. You never met you _benefactor_. You destroy that once you commit it to memory. And, most importantly, you breathe not a word of this to anyone.”

“Got it.” Claudia nodded in understanding. She collected the parchment from off the table and slipped it into her leathers for safe keeping. Later, when they were back in their rented room, she would read it.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you kow about the Venatori, Fenris?”

Claudia could have sworn that they had been walking for hours. The part of her that possessed logic rationalized that they had only just left the inn a few minutes prior, and that it was impossible for it to have been any longer. Still, the rain had let up. She was grateful for that. With hair like hers, if it got wet, she'd be stuck with a frizzy mess. And, she didn't think to bring any smoothing creams to fix such a problem; they weren't a necessity. 

That was what Anders had said when she tried to slip the small pot of cream into his pack, at least. 

“Nothing.”

Fenris' speech snapped Claudia from her thoughts and back into reality. She should have figured him to know nothing on the subject. Such was an issue he didn't typically associate himself with. 

“Well, I suppose that makes me the expert of us three.” She quipped with a note of humor. And with disappointment. 

Anders was at her side. He had slowed his pace in order to allow her to keep up; his longer legs usually resulted in her having to jog in order to keep up. “What do you know on the subject?” He inquired.

“Hardly enough.” Said Claudia with a huff. “I was summoned to Skyhold to mainly give information on what I knew about Corypenis, which ultimately turned into helping them with the problem with the Gray Wardens and getting drunk in the library with their resident necromancer.”

Anders glowered at her mention of alcohol, which eased the sniggering he did over what she had called Corypheus. 

“I guess they were—are—a group of Tevinter supremacists looking to make the Imperium great again.”

“What does that even mean?” Asked Anders.

“I don't know.” Balked Claudia defensively. “I guess they're trying to make it like how the Imperium used to be; closed-minded, blood magic and slavery is openly accepted, mages govern all of Thedas. Shit, Anders, I'm not joking about the getting drunk in the library bit; that sort of information was on a 'need to know' basis. And, I guess I didn't need to know.”

The mention of blood magic and slavery sent both men seething. Claudia knew they were one of the few points that Anders and Fenris actually agreed upon; sometimes she believed that they made up reasons to disagree just for the sake of it. But, never on slavery and blood magic.

All fell quiet after that. Claudia was occupied with navigating the slums, or what she thought to be, in order to find where this particular group of Venatori agents were said to be meeting. It almost made her want to laugh. She figured that any in the Venatori were a bunch of mage purists living off of their parents' money. They never worked a proper day in their life, nor did they intend on it. So, they persuaded thugs and other undesirables to do their work in exchange for a nice, comfy position in the laps of the actual Venatori agents if their new world order ever came to fruition. 

That was the impression she got when she was with the Inquisition.   
And, no one in Minrathous seemed to want to speak of it, from what she could gather from Fenris' questioning people in Tevene. Claudia didn't speak the language, save a vague understanding of the obscenities Fenris favored. He wasn't in the mood to translate whole conversations, so whenever he did question someone, he only provided her with the necessities. 

Still, they got a pretty concrete understanding of where they were going. Hopefully. 

She and Fenris were navigating. Because Fenris was the only one familiar with the Imperium and Claudia liked to be in charge. When she couldn't control her poisonous thoughts or the world around her, at least she could boss around her friend as well as her lover. 

“How much further, do you think?” Asked Anders. Other than his earlier inquiries about the Venatori, he had been quiet. Claudia was happy for that. She doubted if she could deal with the two of them bickering like overgrown children at that moment. 

“If I had been familiar with Minrathous, I could give you an answer.” She sighed, scooping back some of her hair over the crown of her head. “We're looking for a painted red door, I think. That was what they said, right, Fenris?”

Fenris grunted in agreement. “I believe so. My Tevene is rusty.”

“I'm considering that a yes.”

The three continued on for a few more minutes of fruitless searching. Anders was growing increasingly pessimistic, which only brought on disgruntled comments from Fenris. They were all losing hope; Anders didn't need to play the role of the pessimist. That meant that Claudia needed to remain hopeful, despite the sinking suspicion that they were never going to find the red door. 

That was, until they did find the red door. 

It was inconspicuously placed, at the end of an alleyway occupied by a group of rats and some disarded trash. Claudia wouldn't have even thought to go down there if not to avoid an argument she sensed brewing between the men. She didn't have Aveline there to chide them for their childlike bickering, nor did they believe she was enough of an authority to obey if she were to try. 

When she saw it, Claudia believed it must have been a trick of the eye. She had been hopeful that it was real, to the point of rubbing her eyes and inspecting the alley for any signs of something that may cast a red shadow onto the door. The lampposts were out of range, and their light was primarily the greenish glow from the veilfire that kept them lit. Anders' and Fenris' argument was growing to a point where it could wake the locals, which meant that Claudia needed to act quick in diverting their attention.

“I think I found it!”

Fenris was the first to find the alley Claudia was in, with Anders trailing a few paces behind. Both skidded to an abrupt halt when they saw the door. Red. Like blood. Claudia hadn't thought to touch it as a means to confirm whether or not it was bloodied, or just painted. 

“So...this is it?” Asked Anders, sounding unsure. He was ever the cautious one, especially when Claudia was involved. 

“Guess so.” She rolled her shoulders, working out a knot that had formed between her shoulder blades. “I'm going to go in.”

“Shouldn't you check if it's booby trapped first?” Anders' voiced cracked. He sounded so much like a fretful husband in that instant. She thought it was cute.

Still, Claudia made a show of inspecting the door, even though she hadn't seen anything before. One thing that hadn't dulled was her ability to spot a trap. She sometimes constructed them or dismantled them in her spare time, when she wasn't occupying herself with helping Anders with his various concoctions. 

“I see a painted red door.” Mused the woman for Anders' benefit. “No explosive barrels rigged to explode when we cross the threshold, no spikes, no bear traps, not even a guy in a chair waiting to stab us in the shins. I think it's safe enough.”

Anders grumbled something that sounded like if you're sure and adjusted uncomfortably. But, he didn't argue anymore when Claudia went to try the door handle. 

As expected, it was locked. The handle gave plenty of resistance when she attempted to turn it. She had tried three times for good measure. Fenris was giving her a peculiar look as she did so. Claudia chose to ignore him.

“Locked.” She bemoaned. 

“We could see that.” Offered Fenris bluntly. 

“Aren't you lucky that I never leave home without a set of lockpicks, then?” 

Claudia reached into her leathers and pulled out her lockpicks. They were bound in a crude leather envelope of sorts. It was cracked and aged; she had them since she was a youth in Ferelden. They had been a Nameday present from her parents, when it was clear that she would never cast magic, but had taken an interest in subterfuge. It was all she had left of her father. So, while she could more than afford to buy herself a newer, better set, she refused. 

She picked out her tools and got to work quickly. Anders lit an orb of light in his hand for her, because the alley was dark and she could scarcely see in the night. Claudia didn't even have to ask; he was intuitive enough to know when she needed something that he could provide. All was silent, except for the metal picks scraping against each other or the inner machinations of the lock. 

There was no resistance. In less than a minute, Claudia was pulling her tools from the lock, a triumphant grin spread across her face. She replaced the picks and the case silently. Then, with a degree of showmanship, turned the handle and pushed the door open. No matter how many times she picked a lock, she enjoyed showing off to others when she had done so successfully. 

Neither Fenris no Anders praised her. Not that she really expected them to. 

The interior of the building was dimly lit. Anders willed the light he clutched in his palm to glow weakly. They didn't need to be spotted due to their inability to see. Fenris, however, was thriving. His eyes glowed like those of a cat's as he managed to avoid walls and objects with far more grace and skill than Claudia was exhibiting in that moment. In the weaving halls and the darkness, though, Claudia could hear hushed voiced discussing something in the King's Tongue. She couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but the way the words flowed, it was in a familiar language. 

The corridor eventually ended in a door, which stood slightly ajar. Voices and light poured out from the crack. And, from what Claudia could make of it, this door led into a cellar of sorts. Anders extinguished his light all together, figuring that they would be headed down there. Claudia, too, readied herself by unsheathing her daggers. Fenris clutched his mammoth sword tightly. 

Claudia reared back and kicked the door in. It was something she always wanted to do, but lacked the proper strength to do so when they were barred shut. The slamming of the door against the wall was indicator enough to whomever was down in the cellar that they were not alone. Still, Claudia descended the stairs in a manner that announced her presence loud and clear to anyone who would listen. 

“My, my, my,” She purred teasingly “what sort of naughty things are you up to down here?”

They were few in numbers, though all dressed in lavish robes that were reminiscent of the few Venatori agents she actually saw during her time with the Inquisition. Dark colors, with hoods up and detailed embroidery. All bore staves, except a large man in the corner with a sword that rivaled Fenris' in size. All of them turned to see her, a wild look in her eyes and a crooked smirk on her face. Claudia obviously wasn't there for tea and pleasant conversation. 

“Shit!” Cursed one of the casters as they all sprang to their feet. 

Anders worked a spell for protection. Quickly. 

Claudia felt it drape over her. 

She reached into her pack and pulled out a small flask. She threw it at the ground, near the Venatori. Confusion spread. Claudia took to the shadows.

Fenris wasted no time. He already was hacking at the armor the sword-wielding man wore. A look of pure rage sat on his face. 

Bolts of magic flew through the air. Many were aimed at them. Anders' protective shield lessened much of the impact. Still, Claudia was cautious. Their foes were focused on the men due to their unwieldy weapon or flashy attacks. She went unnoticed. 

This made it easy to sneak behind one of the casters and slit his throat before he was any the wiser. The body crumpled to the floor. A steady stream of blood poured from his wound. He gurgled and gestured towards Claudia. But, she disappeared back into the shadows before his comrades had noticed. 

Fenris had hacked most of the armor from his foe. He was looking tired, with signs of injury beginning to show. It would have only been worse if not for Anders' protective magic. His opponent made to attack at the right. Fenris dodged left. This gave him an opportunity. His blade sunk into the armored man's armpit, severing an important artery. Within seconds, another body fell to the floor. 

Anders favored using his staff as a weapon more than his magic. Quarters were close. Friendly fire was a higher probability. Still, when necessary, he shot magic at their enemies. One such bolt struck another caster, rendering him dead on the floor. 

Only one remained. He was trained on Anders, determined to take him down. The Venatori worked a vortex of flame. It climbed up his arm to the shoulder. Hitting a companion was of no consequence. 

Claudia rushed in, timed unintentionally with Fenris' intervention. He had distracted their foe long enough for her to sink her blades in. Fenris, too, retaliated. His lyrium marks glowed blindingly. To the point where Claudia needed to shield her eyes. He reached into their enemy's body and squeezed. His heart burst. Blood sputtered from his mouth as Fenris removed his hand, newly bloodied. Claudia removed her daggers. They were the only thing keeping the corpse in a standing position. 

She wasted no time scouring the room for clues on future activity. Their instructions were just to stop this one group, and any others linked to them. More information would come later, when the Divine had it. Claudia didn't like that lack of a plan. When it was her flying by the seat of her pants, it was fine. However, when someone else giving her orders didn't know where to proceed, it made her uneasy. 

“Find anything?” Questioned Anders, his nose wrinkled at the sight of all the dead bodies. 

Up until that point, Claudia amassed a tidy sum of coins, a pinch of pocket lint, and a couple bits of twine. She didn't know what to expect from these people, but that wasn't it. Eventually, she made her way to a shabby-looking table situated off to the side of the room. Some parchment was spread across it. Hasty handwriting was scribbled upon it. They looked like names, and possibly locations for other meetings. There was also a letter. The seal was broken, making it obvious to Claudia that it had been written in the King's Tongue. This bore more interest to her than the previous. She picked it up and read it. 

“Do you need me to translate?” Fenris' tone was hopeful. He had taken pride in his recently acquired ability to read, and wanted to use it, if at all possible. 

“No. I can read it.” 

The letter was short, but enough to drain all color from her face. Anders took several large strides over. His hands cupped her shoulders as he sought out an injury on her person. “Are you alright, Love? You're white as a sheet.”

“I'm fine.” Said Claudia dismissively. She forced the letter into his hands for reading. “The Venatori are growing in numbers. They're trying to resurrect Corypheus.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My niece was hospitalized yesterday and is currently in the ICU with an upper respiratory infection. Because of this, her older brother is staying with me until she's better. I don't know if it will impact my posting schedule, but this is a heads up.

The smell of musty books was both something welcome and hostile to Anders. On one hand, he spent most of his boyhood in the library of the Circle, either doing research into topics he may or may not was interested in for the sake of filling time, or using the fantastical things he read in-between the pages as an escape from his imprisonment. Much of it hardly seemed real when he read it, and yet much of it was confirmed to be truth much later in life. Though, a lot of time was spent with Karl, using books as a shield to hide their affection for one other. 

Sometimes, when he caught a whiff of old parchment and ink, he felt the pang of hurt in his chest. It tightened around his heart, telling him that he could have done more. He should have done more. 

Anders had Claudia, now. When Karl passed, he grieved. It felt impossible to share feelings for another person. And yet, as time went on, he felt love again. This time, for Claudia. He was happy for that, to be able to give and receive from his heart again. Even so, he couldn't help but reminisce about his time with a previous lover as the smell entangled him.

Speaking of Claudia, she was nearby, going through the books. Bored. The owner of the bookshop they were in had been following her rather closely. He had assumed correctly that she was the sort with sticky fingers. She was on her best behavior, though. Her purpose was to find information on the reversal of spirit possession, or anything that would help them figure out if Corypheus could be resurrected. 

Claudia didn't think so. Or, she was saying that for Anders' benefit. Feeling like he was going through the Calling once again was not high on his list of priorities. And, from what he understood of the situation, the Inquisitor was in no position to be taking down ancient magisters. Neither were they, for that matter.

He was nose-deep in an interesting tome about the various properties of local plants—not something they needed at the present, but interesting, all the same—when he heard Claudia groan from elsewhere. Anders turned a head to see what the issue was, finding her walking up with her arms full of books.

“Not that some of these books aren't utterly fascinating,” She phrased it in a way that made it hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or sincere, “but I have no idea what I'm looking for.” Claudia dropped the books onto a nearby table with a thud. “I wish to be more of a help. Honest. I just feel like I'm holding back your research.”

“You're not holding me back.” Anders was already invested once more in the herbology book in his hands. He would have to ask her if it would be okay to purchase it as well as any useful ones; it was her who had offered to buy him whatever he needed, after all. “I worry more that I'm holding you back.”

Claudia adjusted. He could tell by the rustling of her clothes and the squealing of floorboards from under her feet. “You're worried about inconveniencing me?” She questioned with an amused laugh. “I was working under the assumption this whole time that it was my job to worry about inconveniencing everyone else in my life.”

“You never inconvenienced me, Love.” Anders' reply was simple, but truthful. She had never been a burden. If anything, she made his life easier. Especially in the days where he would survive off of whatever goodwill his patients would send his way. Claudia always made sure he ate, even if that meant she had to drag his stubborn self from his clinic in order to buy him food. On cold, drafty nights when the clinic was hardly shelter enough, he could count on a warm bed and a change of clothes in her estate. More than once, she had invited him to move in. Not even in the romantic context. Just as a friend wanting to make sure that he was safe from the elements and wasn't going hungry.

It ashamed him, that he couldn't provide her with the same treatment. All he had was a heart full of love to give. Even that was tainted by Justice at times. 

Claudia's arms linked around his waist from the back. Her chin rested on his shoulder. She had to have been standing on the tips of her toes to pull that off. “You're supposed to say that.” She argued. Yet, she craned her neck in order to kiss him on the cheek. “What is that book about?”

Anders looked at her through his peripheral. She was attempting to read over his shoulder, but the print was too small for her to grasp. “It's a book about the local flora; just a dalliance from our task at hand.” He snapped it shut as a form of his conviction to commit to actual research. 

“I'll buy it for you. And anything else you want.”

“Claudia.” Anders sighed. There was no point in protesting; Claudia was going to buy him the book regardless of his protests. Still, he had to pay her some lip service, to make it seem like he didn't want it. That was the game she expected him to play. Still, he often felt like he was taking advantage of her generosity and her wealth.

“Anders.” She mocked his tone playfully before snatching the book from his grasp. “Don't argue. Let me buy you a book.”

“You're already paying for every other book I need for my research.” He laced his fingers with those of her free hand. 

“I'm buying you the book.”

Claudia wasn't lying. After they separated, she grabbed the books Anders had set aside for his research purposes and paid for them. The shop owner was surprised when she pulled out her purse full of shiny coins and paid for them all in full. Anders elected to carry the books back to the inn, but not before giving her a grateful peck to the forehead.

They weren’t ten paces out of the bookshop when Claudia’s pack began rustling. She tried to stop it before Anders took notice, but she was too late. He was already gazing on her, left eyebrow quirked as she shushed her bag and demanded that it settle down. Though he couldn’t confidently say he knew what she concealed inside, Anders had a guess.

A guess that was confirmed after she hesitantly undid the clasp that kept it shut and Pounce sprang into her arms. 

“You brought the cat with to the bookstore?” He wasn’t judging her. Not really. Back in the Wardens, Pounce went wherever he went. Even the Deep Roads. They had been inseparable until he was forced to give up the animal. It had just been unexpected to find Claudia stowing away the cat and not himself. But, it explained why Pounce was nowhere to be found that morning. 

“He didn’t want to be cooped up in the inn all day.” Explained Claudia, followed by her cooing softly to Pounce in a way that reminded him of a younger iteration of himself.  
Anders only laughed and shook his head. He hadn’t expected this sort of behavior from her. Claudia was sweet and loving with Ser Biscuit when he was alive, but it wasn’t like this. Biscuit was loved, but Pounce was adored. 

“You spoil him and treat him like he’s our child—“

Anders caught his tongue only seconds after it was too late. He paled as he turned to her. He expected to see her face twisted in anguish. Or anger. Or both. “Maker’s Breath.” Anders cursed. “I’m sorry, Claudia, I—“

“—Would it be odd?” Asked Claudia tentatively. “To call Pounce our child?”

He looked at her, cradling the cat like one would cradle a newborn. Pounce was not only complacent, he was purring loudly and swatting at the air around them whenever it brushed through his fur. His lips pursed as he considered an answer to her question. 

“No.” Said Anders in complete earnestness. “He can be our son.”

Claudia's smile that followed was the sun itself. His warmth when everything around him was cold and uninviting. 

Anders was happy to see the smile on her face. A real, genuine smile. Not one she faked for the sake of everyone around her. He knew the difference. Her eyes glittered like the ocean on a clear day when she was truly happy. She was getting better at faking smiles now than she ever had been, though. Aveline was far too busy to see the pain swimming in her eyes. Varric only assumed it was a permanent fixture after everything she had been through. To Gamlen and Charade, she looked the same as she always did. Anders was the only one who could tell when she wore her mask. She did it so often that he hardly knew what true happiness looked like on her face any longer. If calling the cat their son brought this out in her, he would gladly accept the weird looks they were bound to get whenever referring to him as such. Anders couldn’t fault her; not when he had thought to call Pounce his child, as well. Claudia needed that, and he wasn’t going to be the one to take it away.

Pounce sang happily at Anders, a ploy to get his attention. He cast Pounce a pitiful grin. His hands were currently full and he couldn’t accept the cat as well. In order to indulge him, Anders shifted the books into only his right arm, using his chest to rest them against. This freed up his hand enough to scratch Pounce behind the ear. His purring grew exponentially. 

Something then changed in Claudia. Where she had previously taken a lazy pace at his side, with her head resting against his shoulder and upper arm, she had since gone rigid. Excited, even. Pounce sunk his claws into her shoulder in order to keep his position. She only flinched at the sensation. 

“I just thought of something.” Exclaimed Claudia.

“What did you think of?” Anders didn’t know where this was going.

“I know someone who might be able to help us. Sort of.”

“How do you sort of know someone who could help us?” It was a valid question. He reclaimed his hand from Pounce in order to redistribute the weight of the books.  
“I don’t know.” A shrug. “How well would you think I would have to know someone before I got drunk with them in Skyhold’s library?”

“This is a friend of yours from the Inquisition, then?” Claudia didn’t talk much about what serving the Inquisition was like. Likewise, Anders didn’t know how much weight he put into the stories she did tell. He exclusively didn’t believe her tale about physically walking through the Fade and threatening to punch a Nightmare demon in the dick.

Well, maybe he believed that last part. A bit. 

“Not a friend, exactly. But, someone I killed things besides, and who’s quite amusing once you get enough wine in him.” She paused in an attempt to gather her thoughts. “My point is, he’s a skilled Tevinter mage, and he perhaps had access to knowledge we need. Either about the Venatori’s actions or a way to bind Justice. I doubt if we’ll find information on either just sitting on a shelf in a public bookstore.”

“And you think he’ll help us?” Justice swelled with anger for Claudia’s words. He knew it was Justice explicitly and not his own emotions. It had been Anders who suggested the binding all together. 

“I…I don’t know. I don’t even know how to find him. I only know that he’s wealthy and his family carries some influence.”

Anders wasn’t sure about this. He trusted Claudia’s judgment of character, for the most part. So, if she thought some strange Tevinter mage might be able to help, he did as well. His main problem was how Fenris would handle the new development. The balance between the two of them was already fragile; bringing in a Tevinter mage would only make matters worse.

“Are you sure about this?” Anders sure wasn't. “Fenris will not be pleased about this.”

“You? Worried about Fenris?” Claudia's shock was over-exaggerated. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel fine.” Grumbled Anders. “I am just don't see Fenris taking this well.”

Claudia brushed off his argument. “Let me deal with Fenris.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My niece is on the road to recovery and has gone home. My nephew went home as a result. However, I'm coming down with a cold. I'm going to do my best with keeping up with my schedule, but I apologize if I have to break schedule as a result. 
> 
> Thank you.

The two days Fenris had accompanied tthem into the wealthy districts of Minrathous were terrible. Firstly, he was always thought to be Anders' slave. This enraged him. Partly because it was Anders they were talking about. But mostly, it was the assumption that he was an elf and therefore must have been the slave to a human mage. Anders had responded to these theories in a surprising manner. Many of the rich nobles spoke the King's Tongue, and whenever someone mentioned Fenris being his slave, he did correct them. Fenris didn't know how to respond, but he was appreciative, all the same. Though, he was hesitant to say so other than a muddled grumble of thanks for fear of making the mage think himself as a sort of martyr for showing basic decency.

Claudia decided to do most of the talking in search of this acquaintance of hers, luckily. This irritated him far more than having to accompany Anders. She seemed to be avoiding mentioning his status, which he was sure she knew based on how she dodged the question whenever he asked. Fenris was left with the assumption that he must have been a altus. Perhaps even a magister. She had assured him that her acquaintance from the Inquisition was not only comfortable with working with—and under—elves (the Inquisitor had been a Dalish woman, if his information had been correct), but he was generally opposed to blood magic.

So, Fenris was forced to take her word as far as her judge of character went, regardless of the pit in his stomach and his history.

Their search was little more than a wild goose chase. Many of the people they spoke with were familiar with this Dorian Pavus Claudia asked after. At least, in name they were. He was influential. Or, his parents were. And, his research into various topics was valued. Any knowledge beyond that was hard to come by. One woman thought he had inherited Gereon Alexius' estate in Minrathous and his father's seat in the Magisterium.

Either way, Fenris didn't have high hopes for their search.

And, he could tell it was weighing down on the both of them, as well.

The sheer volume of slaves disturbed Fenris to the point of making him sick to his stomach. However, he knew of this. He knew how the slaves were meant to conduct their master's work silently and efficiently, lest they face punishment later. Claudia and Anders were not. He took notice of how Claudia would grip Anders tight when she saw children cloaked in rags, her face etched in heartbreak. Anders, too, appeared horrified and enraged. Claudia must have feared Justice taking over due to her frequently pulling him aside to whisper words of encouragement into his ear. Fenris didn't know how effective this was; Anders still appeared pale and ready to break at a moments' notice.

“Are you sure that your acquaintance is here?” Asked Anders eventually. He looked exhausted of searching and wanted little more than to go back to the inn. His pack rustled in time with the cat's movement that he kept within it.

“I don't know, Anders.” Uttered Claudia, audibly defeated. “This is the only lead I know of. He's familiar with necromancy, and may know someone we can come in contact with who could be able to help us.”

She wandered off several paces. Even from a distance, the worry lines on her face were visible.

“Claudia—Love, perhaps it is about time we call it a day and head back to the inn.” Anders' suggestion had its charm, Fenris had to admit. His lyrium markings were aching and the sheer volume of people around him was making him uncomfortable. He could do with some rest.

Claudia shook her head. “You can go back, if you wish. This is _my_ task, and I feel as though I've gotten nowhere in it. I want to make some headway before retiring.”

“Then I'm staying with you.” Anders' resolution was unwavering.

“I'm staying, too.” Agreed Fenris. “The both of you would get lost on your way back to the inn without me.”

She gave Fenris a weak grin at his remark. He wasn't joking, though. The both of them would wind up somewhere entirely away from their desired destination without him. Finding them was not his first choice of things to do.

“I just don't know where to go from he—“ Claudia cut herself off. Something seemed to have caught her attention. Fenris couldn't guess what.

Claudia set off in search of something with not so much as a word of what she was doing or where she was going. She was quicker than the both of them, due to her training as a rogue, so they needed to act quickly in order to keep up.

“What is she doing?” Questioned Fenris, hoping Anders had some insight into the matter.

“I haven't a clue.”

She led them through the market square, chasing after something like a dog after a squirrel. Claudia muttered things to herself the entire time like a madwoman. Passerbys looked at her like she was completely out of her mind. If Fenris hadn't known her prior, he would have shared in the sentiment.

They eventually found themselves at a store front. Someone had just gone in, judging by the faint jingling of the the bell hanging above the door. Claudia tore inside as if her life depended on it.

Fenris figured the shop to be a tailor or haberdashery of sorts. Bolts of brightly-colored fabrics lined the walls, with several mannequins modeling the latest in Tevinter fashion filled the space. A man and a woman, both older if the graying hair was any indicator, were situated behind a counter while a dark-haired man conducted business with them.

“This simply will not do.” Complained the man. His delicate, bejeweled fingers coursed along a fabric that probably cost more money than Fenris had seen in his lifetime. “I cannot be caught dead in this pattern or this color. I have a certain image to uphold.”

“Of course, Magister Pavus.” Said the woman. “I will see if we have something more suited to your tastes.”

“Pavus? Dorian Pavus?” Claudia's question interrupted the conversation between the shopkeepers and the man. The man regarded her inquiry by turning his head lazily in her direction.

He was a handsome sort, well-groomed and well-dressed. His hair and mustache hadn't a strand out of place. Everything about his appearance screamed that he was a man accustomed to living a life of luxury and with exceptional wealth. Whether this was the person she sought was still a matter left to be contested; Fenris didn't know if Pavus was a common surname among Tevinter's nobles.

“Can I help you with—I know you.” The man studied Claudia's face carefully. He didn't approach her, but rather, held a finger to his mouth as he pondered _why_ he recognized her. 

“I certainly couldn't forget that mustache of yours if I tried.” Quipped Claudia. “It is the single most glorious sight in all of Thedas.” Fenris couldn't tell how serious she was in her claim. 

“I will gladly accept your compliment, even if I already knew how awe-inspiring my facial hair is without it.” A puzzled grin followed. “What are you doing in the Imperium, Hawke? I thought you were determined to stay in that...er...charming city you call home.”

“You know me,” She began, “I'm just not comfortable unless there's a chance I may get dismembered.” 

Anders wrinkled his nose at her words. 

The man—Dorian—took a good look at her, then he and Anders in turn. He didn't recognize them. Which was fine, because they didn't recognize him, either. 

“Friends of yours?” He gestured towards Anders and Fenris. 

“Ah, yes. Where are my manners?” Claudia pulled hair hair back over her scalp. “This is Fenris,” She gestured towards him, “he's a friend of mine from Kirkwall. The handsome blonde fellow is Anders.” She turned to the man. “Anders, Fenris, this is Dorian Pavus. He's the one I told you about.”

“She's told you only good things, I hope.” Said Dorian with a troubled smirk. “Hawke has mentioned the both of you as well.”

Fenris was uncomfortable. He didn't need to witness a feat of magic to know this man was a mage; the shop owners had already confirmed his suspicion that he was a magister. Fenris was trying to give Claudia the benefit of the doubt. Yet, she sought out a magister, disregarding his feelings on the matter. 

“Claudia? A word, please.”

Claudia joined Fenris outside, in order to give them some privacy in their discussion. Inside, Dorian and Anders chatted about something foreign to the both of them. 

“I am...not certain that we should include him on this task.” He cast his eyes down, anticipating a negative response from her. 

“Why do you feel this way?” 

He chose his words carefully. From the sound of it, she was on good terms with Dorian. Upsetting her was not his intention. Nor was offending her. However, he knew how Tevinter mages proceeded better than she did. He knew their pride, their lust for power. He experienced it firsthand. She only knew of it from whatever she read in a book or what others told her. It didn't have any impact on her life. “Are you confident that he is not a Venatori sympathizer? Power has a way of corrupting someone's mind.”

“I know that, Fenris.” She expressed. “And your worries on the matter are not being brushed aside. However, Dorian was with the Inquisition. The Ventatori was one of the biggest problems we had to contend with back then. He knew a lot on the matter, but seemed to despise them just as much as the rest of us. We didn't get into any very deep discussions, but he seemed like a good sort to me. The Inquisitor was fond of him, called him one of her dearest friends. She was an elf, too.”

“You wish for me to give him a chance?”

“Just the same amount you're giving Anders. If he ever makes you feel as though you're worth less than him or treats you poorly, tell me and I'll do something.”Claudia rolled her shoulders. “If it really bothers you, though, I'll just meet with Dorian privately if he agrees to helping us.”

Fenris chewed on the inside of his cheek. It  _was_ her task an ultimately her decision. This he knew. She never gave him any indicator in the time they had been friends that she would do anything to hurt him. He also trusted her when she said that she would stop any abuses that he may have suffered. Claudia had been true to that back in Kirkwall; Fenris didn't foresee a vast change in character since then. 

“No, that isn't necessary. If you say he is a respectable sort, then I trust you.” 

“Thank you, Fenris. Now, we should get back inside and see if Dorian knows anything that could aid us.”

As soon as they had entered the shop once again, Dorian was already looking upon Claudia for answers. Anders must have told him something that did not sit right with him. 

“Is this true, Hawke?” He asked. “Anders mentioned something about...” he lowered his voice, “Corypheus.”

She nodded solemnly. “I don't know how true my source is on the knowledge, but we were hoping to find you in order to confirm or deny whether it was possible to—you know."  


“I don't know off the top of my head, but I may be able to help you do research into it.”

“Just like that?” Claudia was shocked. Visibly so. “I don't need to twist your arm? No bribes? No offering you an entire cask of expensive wine?”

“With only one arm, I doubt if Tahliah can handle this on her own.”

“That was probably why Leliana asked me to look into the Venatori threat instead of her.” 

Dorian looked around the shop. His gray eyes were suspicious of every shadow. Honestly, Fenris felt the same. It was hard to tell who to trust, especially in these times. 

“We should discuss this more at my estate. We'll have some privacy, there.”

* * *

Within an hour, the were at Dorian's estate in Minrathous. It wasn't unlike Danarius', which caused Fenris some unease. However, discomfited he was, the estate was opulent, with rich, expensive-looking tapestries adorning the walls and marble statues. Claudia and Anders were in awe as they took in the sights. Her more so. She even removed her leather gloves in order to run her fingers along things, to feel it for herself. Dorian regarded this with horror and disgust, muttering something about Fereldens under his breath. 

They talked for what felt like ages within Dorian's study. Mainly he and Claudia with the occasional interjection from Anders. Fenris had nothing to contribute to the discussion. He knew little of Corypheus other than that he had some control over the Calling. Servants flitted in at seemingly random intervals with food and drink for them. Fenris watched them carefully. They did not seem to fear Dorian like so many slaves. Nor were they exclusively elven. 

What Fenris did manage to understand was that bringing someone like Corypheus back to life would take powerful magic, far powerful beyond normal means.  _Blood magic._ That was what Anders scoffed from behind a goblet of wine he and Claudia were sharing. Fenris bristled at the notion. They all did. 

Ultimately, their knowledge on the subject was limited, even between the four of them. Dorian needed to do some research into it. Anders agreed and offered his assistance. This eventually turned to Dorian inviting them to stay at the estate with him; it would be easier to confer with one another on their findings if they didn't have to travel a distance in order to do so. He sent some of his servants to retrieve their belongings from the inn they were staying in, and others to prepare a couple of chambers for them. 

Fenris was thankful, despite his reservations. He needed sleep. He needed sleep in a room without a leaky ceiling and drafty window. As soon as a room was prepared from him, Fenris went to sleep with some guidance from the servants.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Dorian’s personal library was nothing short of impressive.

In the morning, Anders dove headfirst into his research. He and Dorian divvied up the workload; he took the possession reversal, whereas Dorian—aided by Claudia—handled the topic of Corypheus. Though Anders was sure that their idea of _research_ was dipping into the wine while leafing through books and gossiping (for that was what they were doing the last time he walked past them), he was confident that they would make some headway.

The sound of pages ruffling and Pounce’s purring was all Anders heard between Claudia’s sporadic laughter. He would have been jealous that another person was making her giggle like that. She wasn’t his property and she was allowed to socialize with whomever she pleased. Yet, he saw the looks that she received from interested parties on occasion. People who were better looking than he, with money, or other things to offer her. People who weren’t possessed by vengeful spirits or would eventually turn into a ghoul due to the taint.

Dorian didn’t look at her in a way that caused his blood to boil. Nor did she respond to him in a manner that made Anders assume she was considering leaving him for another man. By some miracle, she was still ever faithful and ever at his side. So, while her twittering would have given him cause for alarm and suspiciousness under any other circumstance, Anders felt comfortable enough to continue his research.

What did alarm him was Fenris taking a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the table as his.

Pounce lazily rolled off the stack of books he was napping on and trotted over to Fenris, who cautiously extended a hand out for petting. The cat did most of the work, constantly coursing underneath his hand.

Anders cast him a watchful eye from over the book he was currently engrossed in. Fenris wasn’t watching him. His gaze was trained on Dorian and Claudia some ways away. If Anders was a betting man, he would have wagered that it was Dorian he was watching.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Asked Anders with a hint of boredom and wariness in his tone. Fenris wouldn’t have sought out his company without good reason.

Fenris cast his eyes to the cat, then the table. He was avoiding the question. This much Anders knew. Which was why he went back to his reading.

“Do you…trust him? Dorian, I mean.” Fenris’ question broke the silence that had fallen between them. Anders was unsure how to answer. This was the first discussion they had engaged in together where they hadn’t been flinging insults as if they were arrows set to kill.

“Claudia does.” A humble answer.

“I know what Claudia thinks. I wish to know what you think.” Fenris bit off his words harshly.

Anders reeled back defensively, ready to spit his own venom back at him. Just as he was about to, he bit his tongue, recalling his promise to Claudia. He was supposed to be on his best behavior. And, regardless of how Fenris chose to speak to him, he didn’t wish to upset her.

Swallowing his pride, Anders returned to the question. “I don’t know what I feel about him just yet. He hasn’t done anything to earn my trust, but he hasn’t done anything to betray it, either.” No matter what he said, Anders still took a glance at the pair from over his shoulder.

Fenris snorted. “I doubt if you need to worry about him sweeping Claudia off her feet; he appears disinterested in her, except to share in the wine and conversation.”

Anders blinked, bewildered. Was Fenris attempting to console him? Perhaps he needed to clean his ears. Or, maybe he wasn’t crazy and Fenris had said something meant to ease his mind. Anders set his quill back into the ink pot as he mulled over his words. This was uncharted territory.

“I am…grateful for your confidence in my relationship.” The words felt awkward in his mouth.

Likewise, Fenris tensed. He relaxed soon after, eyebrows knit together, promising something Anders did not look forward to. “She didn’t leave you after you lied to her and blew up the Chantry. A woman that mad isn’t attracting any new partners.”

“Ah, there it is.” Bemoaned Anders. This was the Fenris he was accustomed to. His own eyes darkened anticipating further ire from Fenris.

“It was only a joke.” Fenris groaned. “Or, has Justice made you incapable of telling the difference?”

Anders didn’t stop sneering at Fenris, who in turn, glowered right back at him. He should have expected that any pleasantness between then would have ended this way. It always did. Fenris was incapable of civility with him.

Yet, he continued to sit there, stroking _Anders’_ cat, paying no mind how he scorned the beast’s master. Anders had an idea.

“If you’re just going to sit there, you may as well help.” Anders collected several of the books in his discard pile and set them down in front of Fenris, along with his spare ink pot, a stack of blank parchment, and a quill.

“Claudia taught you to read, yes?”

“Yes.” Fenris’ tone made it evident that he wasn’t confident in his answer.

“Good. Go through these books and see if there is anything about reversing spirit possession, or binding spirits. Write the page numbers of any useful passages down on the parchment.” Anders tapped the books for emphasis. “You _can_ read Tevene, I trust.”

“Claudia does not read Tevene.” Despite his proclamation that he was never taught to read the language, Fenris got to work. Anders knew that Tevene and the King’s Tongue used the same alphabet. He could only assume that Fenris felt that he would be able to decipher the text, given his familiarity with the language.

They worked silently for a while. Anders occasionally looked up from his own book to see how Fenris was doing, not that he would ever tell him that. Fenris’ handwriting was sloppy, though legible. He seemed to be struggling with the quill and ink. Later, Anders would have to copy his notes in order to give them to Dorian in order to have him decipher the pages so that he could continue his research.

Shortly into their work, a young servant strode into the library and directly towards Dorian and Claudia. A letter of sorts was passed to Dorian, who took it gratefully, though shooed his servant away hastily so that he may resume his drinking.

It really wasn’t any of his business. Anders knew this. He tried to remind himself that, despite his curious ears piquing in Dorian’s direction as he read the letter he had just received aloud and to Claudia. Not really a letter, but an _invitation_ to a party of sorts. Claudia squealed with delight as Dorian asked her if she would accompany him as a guest; it was positively gauche to attend such a gathering without a person or two designated to either get drunk with you, or carry your inebriated body out of the event after it was over. That was what Dorian said, at least. Plus, the assassinations and blood magic was an ever-present threat. Much like Orlais, he added. Anders was quickly gathering that Dorian was not the most popular of magisters, not among the old families wanting to preserve the old ways, that was.

Quietly, Anders shut the books he had been agonizing over and headed over. Fenris was quick to follow suit, but with less care in remaining silent.

Claudia sprang to her feet when she was keen to Anders’ approach. She intercepted him, one hand resting on his upper arm as the other stroked his cheek tenderly. The gesture confused him.

“Please tell me that we can all attend.” Pleaded Claudia to Dorian. “I would love nothing more than to drape Anders in finery and wear him upon my arm as I show him off.”

“So, I am your fashion accessory, now?” It was less a question, but still harsh. He didn’t relish the idea of being her pet on a leash, meant to look beautiful and act beautiful for the express purpose of making her look good.

“Not an accessory, my sweet. My lover, who I want all of Thedas to know about.” Her hand on his face found his hand, which she utilized in whirling the both of them around. Anders was lucky to keep his balance. “And I wish to dance with you while we’re both dressed in expensive fabrics and jewels. We didn’t get to dance at Prosper’s gathering. I wanted to dance.”

“You just wound up killing him and half his guests.”

“I wanted to dance.” She reiterated, a bit more forceful.

“You’re drunk.” He contested deliberately. Color had risen to her face, and she was so open and affectionate. It upset him; normally, Claudia was better at refusing drink when it was offered.

“I’m _not_ drunk.” Claudia argued. “I only had one glass. I just want to dance with you.”

Anders didn’t believe her. He believed she wished to dance, but he certainly wasn’t buying into her story about having only one glass of wine. The smell of it was on her breath. She wore it in her eyes. Anders knew Claudia well enough to notice her lies when he heard them.

“I really wish you wouldn’t drink so much.” Reprimanded Anders, feeling more like her parent than he did her lover. He really didn’t want to nurse her through a relapse and recovery again. Not when they both were dealing with so much.

“I apologize, Anders.” Grieved Claudia solemnly. “I got a bit carried away.”

“I would say so.” Dorian’s interjection caught Anders off-guard. He hadn’t anticipated that anyone was truly paying them much attention. “My invitation was for you to make _me_ look impressive to my peers. Not for you to...to _coo_ lovingly about how attractive the other is in formal attire.”

“I don't think you've had enough wine, yet, Dorian.” Uttered Claudia.

“You're quite right.” Dorian lamented. He grasped the bottle by the neck and poured more into his glass, near to overflowing. “In any case, my invitation _was_ for all three of you, not just Claudia. I had the most brilliant idea that we could see what the other magisters know of the Venatori's plans, or possession reversal.”

“That _is_ rather brilliant.” Agreed Anders, shocked that they had genuinely got any work done. With how little wine there appeared to be left, he figured them to have forgone research and planning in favor of day drinking.

“I know.” Ostentatiously remarked Dorian, chin held high in the air. “It was my idea, after all.”

“We should proceed with caution.” Fenris' words came suddenly. He had been silent and observant this whole time, making Anders almost forget that he had been present to begin with. “Most magisters I have encountered would notice if someone was trying to weed sensitive information out from them.”

“So we don't ask any questions directly, we let them think that it is them who wishes to discuss the subject, and we are careful not to reveal our intentions.” Contributed Claudia. “And while we're there, we can sneak off to see if we can find anything that might aid in our search.”

She meant  _steal_ . Anders knew her far too well to believe anything else. It sort of excited him, to see her like this, in her element. Claudia was skilled in sneaking and in theft, and while he didn't always condone it, he still welled with pride for her. In a way, it was sort of sexy. To think of them—her—at attending a gala in order to steal secrets and valuables alike. She was no bard, but she had the skill enough to do so with little difficulty. He watched her do it in Orlais. Such was a memory he returned to often. 

Justice's disapproval brought Anders back into the conversation. 

“I could not attend this gala in the same manner as any of you.” Fenris' observation was a valid one. He was an elf of little standing in society and with no magical abilities. Any one of these things would make him out of place among Tevinter nobles. “Hawke could easily be written off as your honored guest—a friend you acquired during the Inquisition. And, she would, naturally, bring her lover along. I, however, would not be so easily explained.”

Dorian rapped a finger along his chin. It was as though the action was summoning an idea to him. When that didn't work, he sought knowledge in his glass of wine. “We could always say you're...ah...a slave, who—“

“—No.” Fenris wasn't given a chance to defend himself, not when Anders beat him to it. Everyone wore a look of confusion. None was more prominent than Fenris' however. The action surprised even him. The idea of making Fenris play the part of a slave was wrong. He wasn't entirely sure if it had been his, or Justice's, response. No matter, he was not going to allow it. “We will find another way to get Fenris in.”

“I suppose I could slip away and get him in through a back or side entrance.” Mused Claudia. “I would have to do a bit of recon work on the property beforehand, or see if I can acquire the blueprints, but it is entirely doable.” 

“Well, now that this has been settled, can I _please_ get back to my drinking?” Dorian waited not for a response. He drank deeply from his glass and resumed ignoring their presence. 

Claudia left upon her own accord, muttering something about needing to have a dress made. Anders knew that he would also need to have some new garments made for the occasion. If he didn't, Claudia certainly seemed keen on the idea of doing so for him.

Fenris made to leave the library as well. He was halfway out the door before he turned on the balls of his feet and awkwardly looked Anders' way. He had something to say, but was either embarrassed to, or otherwsie just wished to not say it all together. Eventually, he stomached his pride or his nerves (whichever was agitated him) and drew several small steps closer. 

“Thank you.” Grumbled Fenris in disbelief. Anders knew exactly what he meant, and was stricken by the same amount of disbelief. He was still having trouble processing it. 

“You're welcome.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Preparing for the ball kept Claudia busy for the month leading up to it. Along with having outfits made for both she and Anders, she had to devise a plan to get Fenris _into_ the estate, and a backup if that didn't work. Dorian, luckily, had enough standing to acquire what she needed, or find someone who could. She eventually found herself in possession of estate blueprints, which helped her an insurmountable amount. Days were spent poring over it, often with Fenris so that he could get a better understanding of where they would be heading. Together, they had a good idea of where any valuable tomes would be hidden. Still, they didn't know how heavily everything would be guarded. A sword would only do so much against a nosy party goer who could shoot fire from their palms. Claudia, however, could not. So, she needed a plan that would get her in without being seen.

When not torturing herself over such plans, Claudia and Anders had to endure lessons from Dorian about proper etiquette. It would reflect poorly on him if the Lady Hawke was barking at other guests like the demented Ferelden dog people already assumed she was. She was the  _Lady_ Hawke, after all. And he wanted to show off his friendship with a legend as much as he could. Many hours were spent learning proper conversation, and proper eating habits and proper posture. It hurt her head, as much as she assumed it had to have hurt Anders'. He, however, had the benefit of having to attend parties thrown by the King of Ferelden. Though, many of Ferelden's nobles didn't seem as demanding as the ones Dorian was painting a picture of. They, too, learned the favored dances of the Imperium. And, when Claudia complained that she would rather be planning the espionage, Dorian was quick to remind her that it was she who wished to dance. 

The day of the party came quicker than she would have liked. Claudia was as prepared as she would ever be. She had a couple of small blades strapped to her outer thighs, just in case. Fenris would bring her leathers and daggers in with him so that she could change before they made an effort to sneak into the estate. This, she trusted and was comfortable with.

It was getting into her gown that was the greatest struggle.

It was a beautiful dress, made entirely of lavish silks, and in a peacock green. All of the embroidery was gold with purple accents. She had to be corseted to fit into the gown correctly. By the time the servants were done pulling and tying the laces, Claudia could hardly breathe, but her waist was tiny and her breasts looked fantastic. It was a fair trade-off. Her shoes, delicate, tapered heels, were the same gold, with green and purple beading. One of Dorian's servants helped to style her mess of hair, pulling it up in a flattering up-do and stringing chains of gold with green crystals throughout. Claudia applied her own makeup, for that was something she was actually familiar with.

Shortly after the process of getting dressed was complete, she was called down to the carriage.

Anders and Dorian were already waiting within, though Anders exited the carriage in order to help her in. He was dressed in primarily in the same peacock green and in the same silks as she. His waistcoat was that color; the shirt underneath, with a high, ruffled collar that only elongated his neck, was black. All of the buttons and stitching was in the complimentary gold to what she wore. The trousers were black, though his hosiery was green. Unlike her, his shoes were black, though with intricately designed gold buckles. Everything was fitted perfectly to his body, not like that ill-fitting coat he hung onto for as long as he had. Anders long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail with a green velvet ribbon, and his stubble had been trimmed and neatly groomed. He smelled faintly of sandalwood and musk.

Claudia struggled to take her eyes off of him as he offered her a hand in escorting her into the carriage. Anders had always been a handsome man, but dressed as he was, smelling as he did, he looked more the part of a charming prince in a fairy tale than he did a scrappy former apostate. Likewise, she noticed as he studied her, every fold of her gown, how the colors she chose accented the red of her hair. He had said in the past the jewel tones always looked the best on her, hence the decision. 

Dorian was waiting, bored, in the carriage when they finally took their seats. A secret compartment in the side nearest him was open, with a decanter of some brown spirits and a glass situated inside. Well, the glass would have been, if Dorian hadn't been gripping it tightly, half the contents already having been thrown down his throat.

As always, he looked like a pristine, glittering gem. His hair was perfectly coiffed and styled. It shone marvelously in the lingering sunset. His mustache was well waxed, most likely he even had it trimmed for the occasion. He sported an expensive-looking outfit in cream and bronze. The colors did wonders for his complexion and his gray eyes. His traveling cloak was discarded at his side; it too was cream, though lined with violet velvet. Every finger wore fine jewels and rings, each probably costing a small fortune. And his skin! Maker's breath. His skin was normally flawless, with every pore as small as possible and without a dry patch in sight. But that night, it was luminescent, as if a light from within radiated outwardly.

Once they were all situated, the coachman cracked the whip and the horses tugged them off. The three were silent, gazing out the window, or Dorian down at his diminishing glass. Anders had Claudia's gloved hand cupped in his. He stroked her knuckles tenderly with his thumb between stealing glances her way whenever Dorian wasn't watching. When he did catch them, he groaned loudly and mentioned how they were making his stomach churn.

Upon the halfway point, it was Dorian who broke their silence, but not with his disdain for their affections. He reached into his coat with his hand not currently cradling his glass upon his knee and produced a small stone. It was a grayish color, though glowed blue faintly with some form of enchantment, Claudia figured. He passed it to her without an explanation.

She turned the stone over in her hand, curious. Why would he give her such a thing? “What is this for?”

“It's a magic stone.” He explained in a manner that made it obvious that he planned on elaborating. “It can be used for communication. I had three made for tonight. One for myself, one for Fenris, and one for you.”

“Why not one for Anders?” She asked, paying a peek at the man beside her.

“Because he will likely occupy your side for the duration of the night and will have access to yours if he requires it.”

Anders wrinkled his nose, but said nothing.

Claudia slipped the stone into her gown.

“You just speak into it; we'll both hear it.”

The rest of the trip went by without incident. Dorian gave himself a nice buzz in order to make it to the party. He offered Claudia a drink on several occasions, to take the edge off. She refused. It was hard to. Something to ease her nerves would have been welcome. Just a little something. She almost didn't refuse when offered. Anders, bless him, took her hand when he noticed how her resolve threatened to crumble. The gesture gave her enough strength to turn it away.

Their arrival came at near twilight. Veilfire lamps and torches lit the courtyard they pulled into. Several other carriages were pulling up as they had, with beautiful ladies and gentlemen pouring out and into the estate. All were dressed in spectacular clothes in stunning colors. Some wore masks, others wore faces painted with makeup. All were in the sort of dress that was impressive and equally as expensive.

The coachman came around to let them out. Dorian managed a sort of grace and dignity that Claudia thought he would have lacked due to the alcohol he had already consumed. He didn't even require the help of the coachman. Anders followed after, smoothing his clothes over once he was out. Claudia was the last to leave the carriage, and accepted the help from the coachman gratefully. The shoes didn't give her the best of balance. Anders took her arm, and they headed inside.

Trumpets blared in the vestibule as they entered. Pretty elven slaves lined up against the wall, waiting to take the invitations from the guests and announce their presence to the others. They were dressed well, groomed well, but their eyes were sad. Empty. Dorian exchanged his invitation with one of them and information enough to introduce his guests. The elven slave Dorian had given their invitation to spoke with him briefly, before running off into the ball room. Another slave gestured for them to follow, which they did. 

Almost everything in the ballroom was marble and shone magnificently in the candlelight and veilfire-light. Many of the guests were already engaged in conversation. Their discussions were interupted by another blaring of the trumpets. 

“Introducing Magister Dorian Pavus of Qarinus, Abassador for Southern Thedas, member of the Inquisition. Accompanied by Lady Claudia Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, Veteran of Ostagar, member of the Inquisition. She is joined by Ser Anders, Gray Warden to Ferelden's order.”

Dorian was quick to intercept a flute of a pale beverage that sparkled and bubbled, all while muttering something about expecting to see his mother flit into the room at any moment. Claudia wanted to do the same, but not out of fear for seeing her mother; Maker, she would have given her entire fortune just to see her mother once more. No, it was for the crowd of magisters that crowded her once her presence had been announced. _You don’t look at all like your description in Tethras' book_ some lauded, all while eyeing her for some flaw to hold against her. Anders' arm linked in hers tightened, especially when handsome men would come to her with the express intention of telling her that she was much prettier than they imagined, especially given her age.

She, of course, attempted the role of the charmed socialite as she had been instructed to play. Claudia accepted the compliments with grace and charm, feeling more like her mother than she did herself. And, whenever she came close to spitting her fire at them out of anger, Anders was quick to pull her away under the guise of needing refreshments.

It was on one such diversion that Claudia caught _her_ eye.

She was beautiful and statuesque, as tall as Dorian, but with lovely heels and a powder blue dress that complimented her eyes in the same color. Her golden hair was styled in finger waves, though some fell free in order to sculpt her lovely painted face. Her shoulders were broad and her arms were toned, but overall, a beautiful woman. Before they had noticed one another, she was engaged in conversation with Dorian, who looked ready for his second glass.

And she was drawing nearer.

“Pardon my intrusion, but did I hear correctly when you were introduced as the Champion of Kirkwall?” Her voice was warm, a bit husky, but charming nonetheless. Dorian sauntered up, though his eyes scanned the ballroom in search of a slave to freshen his drink.

“I see my title does not escape me.” How she wished she had a glass of something to drown herself in.

“Oh! But where are my manners? I am Maevaris Tilani.”

“Well met, Maevaris Tilani.” Claudia paused. She had heard that name before, but couldn’t place why. Her face twisted in confusion as she tried to figure out why she knew that name. “Have we met?” Perhaps she was an ally of the Inquisition.

“Not officially, no. But we have some common acquaintances, I am sure.” Maevaris took a wolfish look at Anders. He did not respond. “I am a good friend of Dorian Pavus, here, but you most likely heard of me from Varric Tethras.”

“Varric…yes, I think I remember, now. You’re his cousin's wife, yes?” Claudia thought that was why she recognized the name, at least. “Am I close?”

Maevaris giggled. Claudia was unsure if it was meant as an insult, or if she was truly humored by what Claudia had said. Either way, Anders squeezed her arm reassuringly.

“And this handsome gentleman at your side must be Anders.” She sized him up. Anders tensed, which in turn made Claudia tense. Or, maybe because she was jealous of the look another was giving her lover. “I didn’t imagine him quite so tall when I read the Tale of the Champion.”

“You're not going to give me a lecture on what happened in Kirkwall?” He sounded genuinely confused by that. Claudia, too, was confused. They had become accustomed to people judging him for a matter they had no hand in. Or judging her for standing by her love's side through everything. Or both of them for fighting tooth and nail in the war for mage rights. It hadn’t registered that they were in a land of mages until that moment.

“You aren’t going to call him a monster?” Questioned Claudia, just to be sure. Or me a fool for standing beside him this whole time?”

“Why would I do that?” The confusion in her tone was prevalent. “I respect the both of taking a stand for southern mages.”

“Venhedis.” Intruded Dorian. “Can we not speak of such things right now?”

Anders cast Claudia a peculiar look. Neither were prepared for this. Regardless, it was a pleasant switch to what they usually received.

“I…hadn’t expected to hear such a thing.” Said Anders. Softly for himself.

Upon what he said, the musicians began a new song. One perfect for dancing. Anders’ and Claudia’s eyes met, each knowing what the other was thinking. He owed her a dance, and now was that time to pay his debts.

“It was pleasant speaking with you,” began Anders, “but I promised Lady Hawke a dance. If you would excuse us.”

The dance floor had already filled considerably by the time Anders had led her onto it. It was fine; Claudia was self-conscious about her ability to dance. Or, lack thereof. Plus, the shoes, though pretty, were torturous. Already, she longed for her ugly, though comfortable boots.

Anders, despite her shortcomings, was decent enough at dancing, especially at leading her. Where she was terrified of stepping on his toes and hurting him, he seemed to have no such worries.

Soon, she managed to find the beat and keep up with him. It allowed Claudia to take her eyes from their feet and look up at him. Anders was gazing down at her, searching for eye contact. And when she met him, her heart skipped a beat.

His were so beautiful in that light, so rich and so warm. They made he feel safe. As did his hand upon her waist, guiding her along the dance floor. No doubt, they were far from the most graceful couple, but she took no notice to those they shared the floor with. Anders apparently did not notice, either. His eyes never left her, not for a moment. He did, however, charge magic into his hand resting on the small of her back. Enough to warm his palm, but not enough to will a flame forth. He coursed it along her back, soothing her, giving her a sense of seclusion that they lacked at that moment.

The song slowed to a stop, and another took its place, one less able to dance to. Some of the dancers applauded the musicians. Claudia did not. She stood upon her tip toes and planted a firm, though affectionate kiss upon Anders' lips. He didn’t reciprocate right away. When he did, it was playful, laced with a chuckle as he devoured her lips several times before breaking the contact.

“We’re supposed to be questioning the other guests.” He hummed, barely above a whisper.

Claudia took one of his hands in both of hers and led him off the floor. “There is no rule that says we cannot enjoy ourselves while doing so.”

She led them out of the ballroom and through the vestibule. Several guests chatted discreetly amongst themselves, but paid little heed to the man and woman sneaking down a corridor in search of a bit of privacy.

For a bit of privacy with Anders had suddenly become Claudia's number one priority.

 


	15. NSFW**

Anders didn't know where Claudia intended on leading him. Luckily, she had been studying the layout of the estate rather diligently for several weeks. Every turn, was calculated. Every winding corridor and every step. She would glance back at him every so often, just to make sure he was still there. Only once did she stop completely, and that was to remove her shoes.

She reminded him so much of the fiery rogue that walked into his clinic all those years ago, demanding his maps. Claudia was so young then, so filled with vigor and life. He never knew where he was going when he followed her, but it was always to adventure. She was older, they both were, but seeing how her blue eyes sparkled that night, how that crooked smirk made a home on her face, he could have been fooled into believing she was a woman nearly half her age.

Claudia led them further into the estate. Through shadows, past armored guards who were hardly privy to their presence. Anders' breath hitched and palms sweat at each occurrence, but not Claudia. She beckoned him to follow her lead. To continue. And, he did. With no idea as to what her plans were, and a lack of skill and familiarity on the estate, Anders needed her. Both to lead him to their destination and to bring him safely back.

Eventually, she came upon a door. A fascinating door, at least to her. To Anders, it looked no different than any other door they had seen. Claudia turned the handle, and it opened without need of a key or for her to pick the lock. This surprised Anders. Though, he was also well aware that Claudia was knowledgeable on which doors were locked, and which weren't.

With a tug at his wrists, Claudia pulled Anders into the room. The door eased shut behind him, most likely from the breeze the movement created. He took a look around, finding that she had brought them to a small, private study. A couple of bookshelves were filled with many tomes on varying topics. The space was occupied primarily by a fainting couch and a sturdy desk in a dark finish.

Anders looked to Claudia, who had already abandoned her shoes onto the fainting couch. Her expression was purely predatory. It was not an uncommon look for her to wear.

“You brought me to a study?” He asked, making no effort to hide the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What do you intend on doing?”

“This.” Claudia closed the gap between them with several large steps. She placed both of her hands on his cheeks and drew him in for a passionate kiss. This time, Anders was quick to respond, cinching an arm around her waist and stroking the highest part of her cheek with the other. He groaned softly into her mouth, getting drunk off her taste, the softness of her lips, the smell of her skin. Claudia was a beautiful woman, one that inspired the man in him.

Their departure from one another was entirely Claudia's doing. She stayed within his grasp for a moment, teasing his freshly pinkened lips with her index finger. Anders knew that look in her eyes well; it was that of complete, unbridled lust. Something about the way he was dressed or the way they had danced must have brought this out in her. It had been hard to miss her looks otherwise. The way she looked nowhere but him the entire carriage ride, or how she took his arm so quickly and refused to give it up. Perhaps, even, it was the culmination of those things and her natural attraction to him. Either way, Anders was familiar with the look of desire painted on her face coupled with her touches tempting him to give in to them. There was a very valid part of him that wanted to. A part that implored him to forget about why they were there in order to please both his lover and himself.

“I’ve been a bag girl, Ser Mage.” Anders watched, interested, as Claudia walked over to the desk and placed both of her hands upon its polished surface. She arched her back, bringing his attention to her swaying hips and plump backside. The dress she wore hindered his view, but Anders had seen her without very much of anything on to know how her body would have looked in such a pose.

“So bad, in fact, that I may need to be punished.”

It was then that Anders realized that Claudia had no desire to go exploring; the only exploring she wanted was his hands upon her body.

“Is that so?” He asked, indulging her game. No matter how much he would have enjoyed tearing her dress away from her skin and throwing her upon that desk, they had not come to the party to play. “But what of your task, dear Lady? I recall hearing something about a rendezvous with a companion of yours.”

“There is plenty of time until then.” She regarded his question flippantly. This was obvious by her rolling eyes and slumped shoulders. “However, if I don’t get punished for being naughty now, I will never learn my lesson. Surely you will reprimand the thief that stole away into your study.”

Anders smirked. Normally he gladly took the more submissive role when they played in the bedroom. But, Claudia liked a spanking every so often to change up their regular routine of _him_ getting spanked. Apparently, it couldn’t wait for them to get to Dorian's estate. Anders didn’t mind, there was an element of excitement in the fact that they could be interrupted at any moment.

He walked behind her, nearly flush with her rocking backside. His hand slid into the skirt of her gown, stroking her upper thigh and ass before roughly grabbing a handful of flesh. She flinched at first, but relaxed soon after, to the point of hiking the skirt of her dress up so he could get a better view of her racy black small clothes and her garter belt keeping her stockings up. She had planned for this. It had always been her intention to invite him to steal away with her.

That thought caused his grin to widen.

“You _have_ been a naughty girl, haven't you?” Anders leaned over her in order to purr into her ear. Claudia responded by pressing into him. It was still early and already he could feel his cock awakening to her advances. It would have to wait. 

With a firm, unyielding palm, Anders reared his arm back and spanked the supple flesh of her backside. Claudia gasped; he couldn't tell if it was a reflex, or her toying with him. He did it again, making more noise by cupping his palm. Claudia craned her neck to look at him. She bit her bottom lip seductively as she hooded her eyes. It was her way of begging for more.

He continued spanking her. Alternating hands, which cheek, the speed and intensity. She was loving every moment, judging by how her silence turned to soft moans of pleasure. Anders could smell her arousal on her; her underwear must have been soaked. To test his theory, he ran his fingers between her legs, petting the folds, feeling the slickness even through the cloth. She quivered at the sensation.

“I don't think a spanking will suffice.” Said Anders, engaging in her game just as much as she was. He pulled his hand from her, using it instead to begin undoing the laces of his trousers. “I'm going to have to do something a bit more drastic so that you understand.”

Laces undone, Anders eased his pants down just enough to free his wanting cock. It was already engorged and ready. Still, it would be no fun just to slip it into her. Grabbing it by the base, he whacked it against her backside and thighs, much less severe than what he had done with his hand. Claudia mewled excitedly and began swaying her hips anew.

“Punish me.” She begged, no louder than a whisper. Claudia was resting on her elbows, but her entire lower half was propped up high enough to give him access. “Oh, _Maker_ , I need it.” 

Anders' hand returned once more to between Claudia's legs. He gently brushed aside the crotch of her small clothes, exposing her pink folds. With two of his fingers, he teased her, dancing them upon the sensitive skin before slipping them into her vagina to the second knuckle. Her insides were slick with arousal; sneaking off to get spanked by her lover must have done this. Anders responded by repeatedly thrusting his fingers deeper into her while using his thumb to stimulate her clitoris. Claudia moaned, a bit louder than what she had done earlier. She was enjoying it. 

Quickly, Anders pulled his fingers free from her and licked them clean. His head was spinning with the aroma. A condition with only one cure. Anders hooked one hand around her hip while the other held tight onto his cock at the base. He lined it up with her opening, and with a single  _push_ , sunk no less than half of his length into her. Claudia gripped the desk in anticipation of more, which Anders was happy to give her. The rest of his cock went in with no resistance. He hardly had time enough to grab hold of her other hip before she started pushing herself along his shaft.

His hands fastened tight on her hips and he anchored his feet. Ready, he began thrusting his own into her, finding the only thing hindering him from going deeper being her round bottom. Still, he couldn't get enough. Even if he managed to get the entirety in, it would never be enough. With Claudia, he always wanted more, and more never seemed to satisfy that desire. 

Claudia was doing her best to silence her pleasure. She knew there were guards making their rounds to potentially stumble upon them. It was fun and sexy to pretend to get caught, but an entirely different thing to  _actually_ get caught and land themselves in serious trouble. Following her lead, Anders did his best to contain himself.

That was easier said than done.

Being inside her felt amazing. Her insides were velvety and conformed perfectly to his shape and length. It was as if they were molded from the same bit of clay. Every thrust brought him closer to release. Which, in turn, brought another moan to his lips. Anders managed to keep them at bay, for the most part. Instead, his breathing was labored. Regardless, a few slipped out, usually in the form of her name. 

He was getting close. Closer than he liked, given he doubted if she had finished. To help her along, Anders took one of his hands from her hip and used it to stimulate her clitoris once more. This was apparently all it took to send Claudia over the edge. She buried her mouth in her arm, the calling of his name had become muffled in her flesh. Her orgasm ruptured down his teeming cock, drawing him to his breaking point. 

Anders' thrusting grew erratic. His own orgasm bubbled through his testicles and into his shaft. It erupted in several short bursts as his cries of pleasure came to a fervor. He leaned forward, muffling himself in her neck as he drew her hips in so that they were even with his. 

They stayed like that for several moments, still joined, breathing labored, but content. Anders dappled kisses up her neck and to the underside of her jaw where he could reach it. 

“Oh, Anders.” Claudia sighed happily. “That was wonderful.”

 


End file.
